WHITMAN'S  IDEAL  DEMOCRACY 
AND  OTHER  WRITINGS 


3^1)ttman's  %t*t&l  Betnocracp 

AJsFD  OTHER  WRITINGS 
BY  HELENA  BORN 


f     ••' 


WITH     A      BIOGRAPHY     BY 
THE    EDITOR,    HELEN  TUFTS 


BOSTON,  MASS. 

PRINTED  AT  THE  EVERETT  PRESS 
MAY   n, 


Edition  limited  to  500  copies,  of  which  this  copy 
is  No...®/.. 


Give  all  to  love  ; 

Obey  thy  heart ; 

Friends,  kindred,  days, 

Estate,  good-fame, 

Plans,  credit,  and  the  Muse,  — 

Nothing  refuse. 

"  y  T  is  a  brave  master  ; 
Let  it  have  scope : 
Follow  it  utterly, 
Hope  beyond  hope : 
High  and  more  high 
It  dives  into  noon, 
With  wing  unspent, 
Untold  intent : 
But  it  is  a  god, 
Knows  its  own  path 
And  the  outlets  of  the  sky. 

"  It  was  never  for  the  mean  ; 
It  requireth  courage  stout. 
Souls  above  doubt, 
Valor  unbending, 
It  will  reward,  — 
They  shall  return 
More  than  they  were, 
And  ever  ascending." 

RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 


of  Contents 


BIOGRAPHICAL  INTRODUCTION        .          .          J         .          .          .  xi 

WELCOME         .          .          .          .          .          *          .          .          .  i 

GREETING         .          .          .          .          .         ...         .  •       .  2 

WHITMAN'S  IDEAL  DEMOCRACY    ......  3 

THOREAU'S  JOY  IN  NATURE         ......  20 

PoETSv  OF  REVOLT  :  SHELLEY,  WHITMAN,  CARPENTER       »         .  31 

WHITMAN'S  ALTRUISM         .          .          .          .          .          .          .  55 

INDIVIDUALISM  VERSUS  ORGANIZATION    .....  62 

INGENUITIES  OF  ECONOMIC  ARGUMENT             ....  66 

THE  LAST  STAND  AGAINST  DEMOCRACY  IN  SEX      .          .          .  73 

INEQUALITY  IN  DIVORCE     .......  78 

MARRIAGE  SAFEGUARDS       .......  84 


3]ntrolwctfon 


HELENA  BORN'S  childhood  was  happy  and  uneventful.  She  was 
born  in  a  Devonshire  village  May  1  1,  1860.  An  only  child,  she 
attended  the  day-school  at  Hatherleigh,  receiving  later  the  groundwork 
of  a  sound  education  in  an  academy  at  Taunton.  She  excelled  in  her 
studies,  evinced  a  taste  for  mathematics,  and  looked  longingly  toward  a 
college  training.  Though  this  ambition  was  never  realized,  the  wide 
world  became  her  university,  wherein  she  was  ever  graduating  from  en- 
deavor to  achievement. 

When  her  family  moved  to  Bristol  she  advanced  step  by  step  into 
the  broader  currents  of  thought,  but  found  herself  struggling  for  expres- 
sion against  a  well-nigh  insuperable  diffidence  that  was  never  entirely 
overcome,  though  in  later  years  it  became  one  of  her  sweetest  and  most 
lovable  qualities.  In  Bristol  Helena  naturally  entered  the  coterie  of  men 
and  women  who  in  the  metropolis  of  the  west  of  England  eagerly  fol- 
lowed the  intellectual  and  public  interests  of  the  day.  She  became  an 
active  worker  in  the  Bristol  Women's  Liberal  Association,  seeking  free- 
dom and  equality  for  women  through  suffrage,  civic  reform,  and  polit- 
ical education,  and  for  several  years  was  a  member  of  the  Executive 
Committee  of  the  Association. 

A  letter  from  an  early  friend  affords  a  glimpse  of  Helena  Born  at  this 
period.  She  writes  : 

"  When  we  first  met,  Helena  had  just  recently  lost  her  mother,  who 
had  been  like  a  sister  to  her.  They  had  been  perfect  companions,  and 
she  felt  her  mother's  death  terribly.  Being  now  her  father's  house- 
keeper, domestic  duties  took  up  a  large  part  of  her  time.  She  often 
came  home  with  me  from  rehearsals,  and  sometimes  engaged  in  earnest 
conversation  with  my  father  on  social  and  political  topics.  At  that  time 
she  certainly  had  ideas  of  her  own,  expressing  them  in  a  rapid,  nervous 


Biographical   ^Introduction 


manner.  After  a  vigorous  argument  with  father  she  would  become  silent, 
though  not  convinced  by  him,  and  would  then  end  up  with  a  laugh. 

"Helena  loved  music,  played  the  piano,  and  sang  in  the  choir  of 
the  Oakfield  Road  Unitarian  Church  in  Bristol,  of  which  Mr.  Har- 
greeves  was  pastor.  She  liked  his  preaching,  which  was  of  the  broadest, 
but  admired  even  more  that  of  Stopford  Brooke,  who  occupied  the  pul- 
pit there  for  a  short  time. 

"We  attended  a  debating  society  attached  to  the  church,  and  she 
would  often  force  herself  to  rise  and  speak,  if  only  a  few  words.  Such 
was  her  extreme  diffidence  that  I  alone  knew  what  the  effort  cost  her. 
I  remember  how  she  enjoyed  a  whole  day  we  spent  together  in  the 
country.  We  walked  miles  and  miles,  and  ate  our  lunch  sitting  up  on  a 
haymow.  We  sometimes  went  to  dances  together,  and  once  went  up 
to  London  to  visit  the  Exhibition.  She  had  many  interests  outside  her 
home,  devoting  what  time  she  could  to  them.  Her  people  disapproved 
of  her  course  in  taking  up  public  questions,  which  was  a  great  trial  to 
her,  but  did  not  affect  her  convictions  or  what  she  believed  to  be  her 
duty." 

Her  intellectual  interests,  as  represented  by  her  reading,  embraced  a 
wide  field.  At  sixteen  she  was  already  familiar  with  many  popularly 
written  works  of  science,  besides  the  standard  English  authors.  In  suc- 
ceeding years  her  studies  included  the  works  of  Darwin,  Spencer, 
Huxley,  and  Haeckel.  Economics  she  pursued  through  Bastiat  and 
John  Stuart  Mill;  while  her  theological  tendencies  are  indicated  by  her 
reading  of  Ingersoll's  orations,  the  writings  of  Bradlaugh,  Thomas 
Paine,  and  Leslie  Stephen.  In  literature  her  tastes  led  her  to  Brown- 
ing, Lowell,  George  Eliot,  Thackeray,  Emerson,  not  to  mention  Swin- 
burne, Shelley,  Keats,  and  Lytton.  Besides  which  she  followed  closely 
the  leading  monthly  magazines  and  quarterly  reviews.  It  was  not  till 
she  was  about  twenty-eight  years  old  that  Whitman's  "Leaves  of 
Grass"  came  into  her  hands  and,  like  Thoreau's  writings,  which 
through  "  Walden  "  she  first  knew  a  year  afterwards,  exerted  a  lasting 


Biographical   31ntroOuction  Xm 

influence  on  her  mind.  About  the  same  time  she  read  the  works  of  the 
engraver-poet  William  Blake,  of  Walter  Pater,  and  the  dramas  of  Ibsen. 
Edward  Carpenter's  "Towards  Democracy"  produced  an  unfading 
impression  and  always  remained  an  intimate  companion.  She  also  read 
the  social  and  economic  writings  of  John  Ruskin,  besides  most  of  the 
current  works  on  socialism  and  kindred  subjects. 

Among  Helena's  associates  in  the  Liberal  Association  was  a  woman 
about  her  own  age,  with  whom  an  important  period  of  her  life  became 
identified.  No  account  of  Helena  Born  would  be  complete  without 
mention  of  Miriam  Daniell.  It  was  under  her  influence  that  Helena's 
energies  burst  into  that  flame  of  social  consciousness  that  burned  bright 
and  pure  to  the  end.  To  this  beautiful,  gifted  woman  she  became 
united  in  ties  of  closest  sympathy  and  comradeship. 

Miriam  was  an  artist,  a  poet,  and  a  socialist.  Her  studies  in  eco- 
nomics, her  intimate  knowledge  of  the  lives  of  the  working  people,  and 
her  deep  sympathy  with  them  in  their  efforts  to  improve  their  lot  led 
naturally  to  her  embracing  the  socialist  gospel,  then  spreading  amongst 
the  advanced  guard  of  the  labor  movement.  In  the  course  of  frequent 
walks  into  the  country  in  all  weathers  Miriam  imparted  to  Helena  her 
own  enthusiasm.  They  were  kindred  souls,  both  richly  endowed  with 
the  artistic  temperament,  and  sought  the  natural  beauties  of  field  and 
flower,  rain  and  sunshine,  and  in  them  found  joy  and  inspiration. 
Thus  could  they  comprehend  the  message  of  Thoreau  and  Whitman, 
whom  they  now  read  together,  dreaming  of  the  ideal  fellowship. 

Not  only  was  Miriam  herself  an  artist  of  no  mean  ability,  but  she 
had  drawn  within  her  circle  gifted  men  and  women,  artists,  musicians, 
those  who  cherished  ideals,  and  to  this  atmosphere  she  introduced  her 
dear  friend.  Like  Miriam,  Helena  resided  in  Clifton,  the  fashionable 
suburb  of  Bristol.  But  both  women  held  lightly  their  position  among 
the  privileged.  Luxuries  and  all  the  fine  things  that  wealth  can  secure 
for  those  who  seek  only  comfort  and  pleasure  were  to  them  as  dross. 
They  held  that  social  regeneration  would  come  only  through  the  sim- 


Biographical  3f]ntroDuctton 


plification  of  life.  The  useless  and  often  baneful  luxuries  enjoyed  by 
one  class  had  their  obverse  in  the  want  of  even  the  simple  necessaries 
of  healthy  existence  from  which  another  class  suffered.  Simplicity  in 
dress,  in  house-furnishings,  in  tastes  and  habits,  was  therefore  a  cardinal 
tenet  of  their  faith.  It  was  furthermore  in  harmony  with  their  artistic 
conceptions.  As  carried  out  by  them  there  was  beauty  in  simplicity, 
and  it  was  a  sound  doctrine  also  from  the  point  of  personal  hygiene. 
Applying  it  thus,  they  became  vegetarians,  for  which  course  they  ad- 
duced other  reasons,  ethical  and  humanitarian;  so  it  happened  that  dur- 
ing all  the  years  that  followed  both  were  earnest  and  consistent  vege- 
tarians. 

But  perhaps  the  chief  consideration  which  led  them  to  emphasize 
simplicity  of  life  and  carry  it  out  in  every  direction  was,  as  has  been 
hinted,  their  socialistic  view  that  a  large  part  of  the  world's  work  was 
useless.  «. 

In  ministering  to  artificial  tastes,  silly  fashions,  and  unsocial  customs, 
the  labor  of  a  considerable  portion  of  the  producing  classes  was  utterly 
wasted;  hence  the  producers  themselves  were  exhausting  their  energies 
to  supply  the  multitudinous  demands  of  the  idle  rich,  while  unable  to 
secure  for  themselves  a  sufficiency  of  wholesome  sustenance. 

It  became  the  duty,  therefore,  of  every  one  impressed  with  these  views 
to  make  personal  and  united  effort  toward  better  economic  conditions. 
It  was  not  merely  by  theorizing,  or  by  preaching,  that  these  young 
women  endeavored  to  spread  the  gospel  of  simplicity  and  naturalness  in 
the  daily  life,  but  by  personal  example,  the  actual  living  of  their  ideal. 
This  is  the  key-note  of  the  later  development  of  Helena  Bern's  life. 

Opportunity  soon  came  to  test  their  principles,  as  well  as  their  fitness 
for  the  work  that  lay  before  them.  First  of  all,  a  flood  had  visited  the 
low-lying  district  of  Bristol,  where  lived  the  very  poor,  and  down  among 
these  went  Miriam  and  Helena  as  the  water  receded,  and  here,  in  their 
endeavors  to  relieve  the  acute  suffering,  they  learned  how  to  gain  the 
confidence  of  the  humbler  population.  Not  in  the  guise  of  charity,  but 


Biographical  ^Introduction 


as  co-workers,  anxious  to  be  of  service,  they  sought  to  win  the  hearts  of 
their  less  fortunate  brothers  and  sisters. 

Hard  upon  the  flood  came  the  awakening  of  the  working  people 
throughout  the  land,  first  manifested  in  the  great  London-' Dock  Strike 
of  1889.  The  spirit  of  revolt  was  in  the  air,  and  penetrated  to  the  re- 
motest parts  of  England.  Bristol  soon  became  a  center  of  agitation,  and 
here  was  formed  a  branch  of  the  Gas  Workers'  and  General  Laborers' 
Union,  which  was  then  uniting  unskilled  and  hitherto  unorganized  labor 
in  all  parts  of  the  country.  Of  the  Bristol  branch  Helena  Born  became 
secretary  and  Miriam  Daniell  treasurer,  both  honorary  offices.  It  was 
characteristic  of  the  new  labor  movement  that  it  absorbed  the  most  ear- 
nest and  energetic  leaders  in  the  socialist  ranks.  To  the  work  of  organi- 
zation they  brought  a  potent  sense  of  the  dignity  no  less  than  the  solidarity 
of  labor.  They  infused  the  movement  with  an  ethical  ideal  having  the 
compelling  force  of  a  religious  conviction. 

Under  such  influences  the  two  friends  entered  upon  the  arduous  task 
of  securing,  through  agitation  and  organization,  shorter  hours,  higher 
wages,  and  more  equitable  conditions  for  laborers  of  both  sexes.  Nor 
were  their  efforts  unavailing.  It  was  a  period  of  commercial  prosperity, 
and  in  several  industries  the  demands  of  the  wage-earners  were  granted. 
But  in  many  cases  strikes  appeared  to  be  the  only  means  to  gain  con- 
cessions; and  in  every  industrial  center  throughout  Great  Britain  strikes 
became  the  order  of  the  day.  Not  that  the  revolt  was  due  to  the  activity 
of  the  agitators,  who  were  themselves  merely  embodiments  of  the  pre- 
vailing spirit  of  unrest,  but  it  arose  spontaneously  amongst  the  toilers 
seeking  a  modicum  of  justice. 

Miriam  and  Helena  became  active  leaders  in  the  movement  in  Bristol. 
They  seemed  to  be  needed  everywhere  at  once.  Every  class  of  labor 
desiring  to  organize,  every  new  strike,  demanded  their  presence.  As 
officers  of  the  central  council  they  were  called  upon  to  address  meetings, 
lead  parades,  collect  funds,  distribute  relief,  encourage  the  timid,  and 
restrain  the  violent  during  a  period  of  immense  popular  excitement. 


Biographical  31ntroDuction 


Through  their  incessant  efforts  funds  were  gathered  from  all  parts  of  the 
country  in  aid  of  the  strike  of  the  Bristol  cotton  operatives.  Night  upon 
night,  after  days  of  unremitting  activity,  into  the  small  hours  they  sat, 
counting  the'  pennies  taken  up  at  local  meetings  and  strike  parades,  and 
planning  the  judicious  disbursement  of  the  money  among  the  needy 
strikers. 

Sometime  before  this  our  friends  had  gone  forth  from  their  drawing- 
rooms  and  taken  a  small  house  in  the  heart  of  the  working-class  district. 
Here,  while  gaining  the  confidence  and  respect  of  the  people,  they  set 
an  example  of  practical  simplicity  in  household  matters,  showing  aesthetic 
possibilities  in  color  and  ingenious  and  artistic  adaptation  which  were  a 
revelation  to  their  neighbors.  With  their  own  hands  they  tinted  the 
walls  of  their  rooms  and  waxed  the  uncarpeted  floors,  while  from  the 
most  commonplace  materials  they  improvised  many  articles  of  furniture 
and  decoration,  combining  both  beauty  and  utility.  They  had  already 
joined  the  little  socialist  group  of  five  or  six  enthusiasts  who  had  under- 
taken to  convert  to  their  ideas  the  whole  of  Bristol.  One  of  the  original 
members,  who  then  resided  near  the  house  occupied  by  Miriam  and 
Helena,  writes,  "There  was  never  such  an  institution  as  the  Bristol 
Socialist  Society.  Whitman  sings  beautifully  of  loving  comrades,  but  his 
verses  do  not  begin  to  touch  upon  the  real  delight  of  the  actual  bliss  of 
comradeship  in  practice." 

Around  the  two  devoted  women  in  good  sooth  centered  the  spirit  of 
loving  comrades.  Their  home  became  a  sort  of  headquarters  of  the  social- 
ist and  labor  movements  of  the  day.  From  a  letter  written  by  Helena  in 
the  spring  of  1890  to  a  cousin  in  rural  Devon  we  catch  a  breath  of  the 
atmosphere  in  which  the  comrades  then  lived:  — 

9  LOUISA  STREET,  ST.  PHILIP'S,  BRISTOL, 

SATURDAY,  NOON. 

Dearie  :  I  have  not  heard  from  you  since  I  last  wrote,  and  my  heart  often 
longs  for  you  that  I  might  hold  your  hand  in  mine  and  give  myself  to  you  as 
I  would  give  myself  to  all.  Happiness  only  comes  to  us,  dear,  when  we  want 


UBiograpljical  IfJntroDuctton 


nothing  for  ourselves,  and  when  our  lives  are  in  accord  with  the  Great  Spirit 
of  Love  which  animates  the  universe.  I  hope  you  will  like  the  little  book, 
with  its  simple  brown  cover  which  pleases  me  much.  The  author  [Edward 
Carpenter]  will  be  in  Bristol  to-day  to  lecture  to-morrow  and  Monday,  and 
we  expect  he  will  be  coming  to  visit  us.  I  have  made  the  floor  of  my  room 
shine  with  extra  brightness  this  morning,  in  anticipation,  with  aid  of  a  little 
beeswax,  "turps,"  and  "elbow-grease."  For  the  next  few  hours  I  shall  be 
discreetly  inhospitable,  in  view  of  the  muddy  pavements  outside. 

Work  keeps  just  as  plenty  as  ever.  We  had  three  days  at  Christinas  for 
long  country  walks,  which  we  much  enjoyed,  in  spite  of  the  ever-present  mud; 
and  now  we  are  busy  organizing  the  tailoresses,  and  have  two  or  three  com- 
mittees and  other  meetings  each  evening.  The  work  is  pretty  hard  and  involves 
considerable  mental  strain,  but  it  has  many  compensations.  It  helps  one 
greatly  to  be  associated  with  men  who  really  love,  who  give  themselves  with 
so  much  unselfishness  to  the  cause  which  they  believe  in,  and  are  true  to  their 
principles  in  the  face  of  every  danger.  We  have  many  friends.  One  shoe- 
maker, for  instance,  very  poor,  who  has  a  sick  wife  and  children,  begged  to 
be  allowed  to  make  our  boots  for  nothing.  Of  course  we  shall  not  avail  our- 
selves. Another  man  who  has  been  out  of  work  for  some  time  on  account  of 
the  part  he  has  taken  in  the  movement  sent  us  a  fine  hamper  of  vegetables  for 
Christmas. 

WEDNESDAY,  MIDNIGHT. — This  afternoon  A.  W.,  one  of  my  Clifton 
friends,  came  to  tea  with  me,  and  we  had  a  pleasant  talk  together.  To- 
morrow morning  I  shall  be  in  the  kitchen  at  White  Ladies  Road  [her  father's 
home  in  Clifton]  making  the  weekly  pies  and  cakes.  .  .  . 

I  think,  dear  child,  I  have  written  as  much  as  you  will  care  to  read  this 
time.  Yours  ever,  LENA 

Amongst  their  conventional  friends  the  attitude  of  Miriam  and  Helena 
in  allying  themselves  so  unmistakably  with  the  laboring  folk  brought 
forth  much  criticism  and  remonstrance.  By  Helena  this  disapproval  of 
her  course  by  old  and  respected  friends  was  sorely  felt,  but  she  never 
flinched  from  the  path  that  duty  marked  out  for  her.  The  situation  at 
this  period  is  elucidated  in  a  forcible  defence  of  her  position  written  by 
Helena  to  one  of  her  friends  of  the  Women's  Liberal  Association: 


^ntroUuction 


"  I  have  had  ample  opportunity  of  observing  the  attitude  of  the  social- 
ist leaders  in  Bristol,  and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  their  antag- 
onism is  not  directed  toward  individuals  of  the  capitalist  or  any  other 
class,  but  against  the  present  competitive  system.  They  are  men  who 
sacrifice  cheerfully  and  persistently  for  ideals  which  few  would  deny  to 
be  noble.  .  .  . 

"Equality  and  freedom  for  women  is  one  phase  only  of  an  ideal  of 
universal  freedom  and  equality.  I  have  not  taken  up  a  new  position  with- 
out carefully  thinking  it  out.  If  at  any  time  I  see  beyond,  I  shall  be  pre- 
pared to  abandon  it. 

"The  principles  of  socialism,  as  I  understand  them,  seem  to  me 
economically  incontrovertible,  and  to  comprise  spiritual  ideals  of  unity 
and  brotherhood  which  alone  can  transmute  the  materialism  of  our  time. 
And  I  feel  that  the  only  effectual  way  to  convince  others  of  the  truth  of 
one's  principles,  and  to  bring  about  the  new  time,  is  by  living  them.  .  .  . 

"It  is  uphill  work,  but  we  cannot  isolate  ourselves  from  the  mass. 
Society  may  be  regarded  as  an  organism,  pain  or  disease  in  any  part  of 
which  injures  every  individual  member.  The  soul  that  allows  its  secret 
impulses  to  be  overruled  and  follows  not  its  highest  must  inevitably  be- 
come perverted.  I  hold  that  no  efforts  made  in  the  spirit  of  love  can  be 
entirely  unavailing,  and  that  we  may  thus  deliver  the  truth  that  is  in  us 
without  any  afterthought  of  results.  To  the  loyal  there  is  a  joy,  as  Whit- 
man says,  in  *  being  tossed  in  the  brave  turmoil  of  these  times.' 

"  Our  union  is  one  of  the  few  unions  initiated  by  men  which  accords 
women  full  representation  on  its  councils,  and  has  included  among  its 
objects  the  obtaining,  wherever  possible,  the  same  wages  for  women 
doing  the  same  work  as  men.  You  know  I  am  in  favor  of  men  and  women 
working  hand  in  hand  whenever  practicable,  instead  of  in  separate  organ- 
izations, which  tend  to  favor  an  unnatural  antagonism." 

Though  favoring  strikes  only  as  a  last  resort,  Helena  and  her  com- 
rades found  themselves  the  active  leaders  of  the  Bristol  cotton  operatives, 
whom  they  had  organized,  in  a  fight  for  better  wages,  which  succeeded 


Biographical  3flntroDuctton 


after  a  long  and  desperate  struggle.  Into  these  few  months  were  crowded 
so  much  strenuous  effort  and  exhausting  labor  that  Helena,  sustained 
throughout  by  an  exalted  enthusiasm,  had  neither  time  nor  inclination  to 
keep  a  record  of  events,  and  could  never  in  later  years  recall  the  details 
of  her  life  at  this  period,  so  as  to  furnish  a  consecutive  story.  After  the 
cotton  workers'  strike  was  won  she  conceived  the  idea  of  organizing  the 
ill-paid  seamstresses  who  worked  in  their  homes  scattered  over  the  country 
around  Bristol.  These  women  were  perhaps  the  most  unfortunate  victims 
of  commercialism  to  be  found  in  the  ranks  of  the  workers.  For  a  miser- 
able pittance  they  slaved  all  day  and  far  into  the  night.  Their  very  pov- 
erty and  helplessness,  while  appealing  with  added  urgency  to  Helena's 
sympathies,  rendered  her  task  not  only  more  difficult,  but  less  likely  to 
prove  a  success.  Week  after  week  she  labored  hopefully  in  the  good  cause. 
From  house  to  house  she  passed,  striving  to  arouse  interest  in  the  union. 
It  was  no  uncommon  day's  work  for  her  to  tramp  thirty  miles,  scouring 
the  country  on  her  self-imposed  mission.  An  organization  was  effected, 
but  the  nature  of  the  membership,  made  up  of  women  who  carried  home 
their  work,  hence  remaining  always  strangers  to  one  another,  proved  an 
obstacle  so  serious  that  little  seems  then  to  have  been  accomplished.  It 
was  pioneer  work,  and  the  subsequent  success  of  women's  labor  unions, 
even  in  sweated  industries,  justified  the  effort. 

If  this  phase  of  Helena's  life  was  one  of  self-denial  and  arduous  labor, 
it  was  alsoja  time  of  self-realization  and  much  happiness.  There  was  an 
inspiration  in  the  "real  delight  of  comradeship"  whose  memory  she 
ever  after  cherished.  Though  class  feeling  then  as  now  was  dominant  in 
England,  among  the  socialist  comrades  it  had  no  place.  The  intimate 
associates  of  Miriam  and  Helena  were  simple,  earnest,  and  equally  de- 
voted laboring  men  and  women.  Small  wonder  that  the  enthusiasm  gen- 
erated in  such  an  atmosphere  should  burn  undimmed  throughout  a  life- 
time. Certain  it  is  that  after  long  years  of  separation  the  endearing  per- 
sonalities of  these  kindly  spirits  remained  in  Helena's  mind  fresh  and  vivid. 

A  change  was  now  at  hand,  which  meant  the  sundering  of  old  relt- 


Biographical   3f]ntroDuction 


tionships,  leaving  familiar  associations,  and  taking  a  decisive  plunge  into 
new  and  untried  paths.  After  a  year  of  activity  in  the  labor  movements 
during  which  the  two  friends,  both  in  their  public  work  and  their  do- 
mestic life,  were  inseparable  companions,  Miriam  determined  to  leave 
England.  An  unhappy  marriage  of  many  years  before  doubtless  precip- 
itated this  decision.  When  Miriam  asked  her  dearest  friend  to  accom- 
pany her  to  America  Helena  did  not  hesitate  over  her  course.  Both  had 
dreamed  of  a  pilgrimage  to  the  land  of  Emerson  and  Thoreau  and  Whit- 
man. Their  opportunity  to  realize  the  dream  had  come,  and  the  two 
women  set  forth  in  the  autumn  of  1890  for  Boston. 

Helena's  devotion  to  her  friend  is  aptly  pictured  by  a  comrade  who 
was  closely  associated  with  them  during  all  that  stormy  period  in  Bristol: 

"  Helena  was  always  the  same  quiet,  thoughtful  person,  never  display- 
ing much  outward  enthusiasm,  but  never  idle.  Miriam  was  a  fiery  en- 
thusiast, whose  vital  forces  could  not  be  suppressed.  Though  true  as  steel 
to  the  cause,  she  had  a  tendency  to  drift  off  into  new  and  untried  projects. 
She  feared  nothing. 

"  To  such  a  spirit  Helena,  cool,  balanced,  self-controlled,  proved  an 
invaluable  companion.  No  less  self-sacrificing  than  Miriam,  her  ideal, 
were  equally  lofty,  while  her  unobtrusive  counsel  and  loving  rebukes,  dif- 
fidently conveyed,  as  if  in  fun,  were  the  modulating  influence  ever  pres- 
ent upon  the  high-strung,  impetuous  soul  of  her  friend. 

"  The  regard  which  Miriam  excited  in  those  who  came  in  close  con- 
tact with  her  bordered  upon  reverence.  Our  Bristol  socialists  'all  felt  that 
kind  of  influence,  and  no  amount  of  kicking  over  the  conventional  traces 
seemed  to  affect  our  regard  for  her,  except  to  increase  it.  As  some  said, 
her  heart  was  as  big  as  her  body,  and  that  heart  always  aflame  with  irre- 
sistible love.  To  Helena's  regard  for  her  there  was  an  added  devotion 
which  it  was  grand  to  know.  If  we  ever  meet  Miriam  in  the  spiritual 
world  she  will  have  her  arms  around  Helena's  neck  and  declare  that  she 
was  the  dearest  friend,  the  most  helpful  companion,  the  one  who  under- 
stood her  best  —  and  Helena  will  not  believe  it." 


Long  before  they  left  Bristol  the  gulf  between  them  and  the  circles 
in  which  they  once  moved  had  grown  so  wide  that  no  attempt  was 
made  to  bridge  it.  Though  many  of  their  former  associates  professed 
an  interest  in  social  reform,  the  emancipation  of  women,  and  kindred 
ideas,  none  of  them  stood  ready  to  abandon  the  privileges  of  their  com- 
fortable security  for  the  struggle  which  involved  self-support  no  less 
than  the  uplifting  of  the  mass.  Miriam  and  Helena  were  criticised, 
censured,  and  condemned  for  adopting  the  extreme  course  to  which 
they  were  impelled  by  their  convictions.  While  some  of  their  whilom 
friends  mildly  disapproved,  others  completely  turned  their  backs  on  the 
two  brave  women.  "Slumming"  as  a  novel  diversion,  it  is  true,  occa- 
sionally becomes  the  fashion;  but  to  take  up  one's  abode  deliberately 
amid  ignorance  and  want,  to  fraternize  with  strikers,  above  all,  by 
socialistic  agitation  to  set  class  against  class  is  conduct  manifestly  out  of 
harmony  with  the  conventional  proprieties,  and  might  well  shock  the 
finer  sensibilities  of  good  society. 

The  musical,  artistic,  and  literary  circles,  which  the  two  comrades 
so  much  enjoyed,  knew  them  no  more.  Satisfied  with  their  new  friends 
amongst  the  humble  toilers,  they  yet  yearned  for  the  better  time  when 
it  would  no  longer  be  deemed  a  social  crime  to  live  in  accordance  with 
one's  highest  aspirations.  In  leaving  England,  therefore,  it  was  not 
without  mingled  feelings  of  uncertainty,  regret,  and  hope  that  they  finally 
broke  with  old  ties  and  faced  a  new  and  unknown  world  of  strangers. 

They  first  took  up  their  abode  in  Cambridge.  The  town  of  Concord 
attracted  them,  rather  for  its  literary  than  for  its  historic  associations. 
Many  a  time  they  walked  together  from  Cambridge  to  Walden  Pond, 
seldom  omitting  a  hasty  plunge  in  its  placid  waters,  lingering  over  land- 
marks grown  familiar  to  them  through  Thoreau.  Among  their  earliest 
sources  of  delight  in  the  new  land  were  the  beautiful  and  gorgeous  colors 
of  the  autumn  foliage.  In  England  they  had  never  seen  such  wealth  of 
arboreal  color.  But  it  was  while  still  in  England  that  the  artist  soul  of 
Miriam  had  awakened  in  Helena  that  appreciation  of  the  aesthetic  which 


Biographical  ^Introduction 


grew  to  be  a  passion.  Color,  to  whose  possibilities  most  of  us  are  in- 
different, was  to  them  a  veritable  religion.  They  revelled  in  it.  Har- 
mony of  color  symbolized  harmony  of  life.  It  became  an  expression  of 
personality.  As  Helena  once  expressed  it:  "  It  is  to  be  out  in  the  fields 
and  recognize  your  friend,  no  matter  how  far  off,  by  the  coloring  of 
dress  which  means  that  one  alone." 

There  was,  however,  an  unassthetic,  practical  side  to  life  that  even 
such  idealists  as  Helena  and  Miriam  could  not  ignore.  A  fundamental 
canon  of  their  creed  was  that  every  individual  should  do  some  kind  of 
useful  work.  To  live  idly  upon  an  unearned  income,  in  their  eyes, 
meant  living  as  social  parasites  upon  others.  A  word  from  Helena  at 
this  time  and  she  would  have  been  provided  with  sufficient  means  to 
supply  her  needs;  but  she  was  determined  no  longer  to  avail  herself  of 
her  material  advantages.  Cast  thus  by  choice  upon  her  own  resources, 
she  must  straightway  learn  a  trade  to  live  by,  this  provision  in  the 
scheme  of  her  early  education  having  been  deemed  superfluous.  So 
shortly  after  her  arrival  in  America  we  find  her  at  work  in  a  Boston 
printing-office.  Here  she  served  three  months  gratis  in  order  to  learn 
typesetting.  The  probation  was  not  wasted,  for  she  next  appears  at  the 
case  on  a  Waltham  newspaper,  where  she  remained  several  months, 
earning  seven  or  eight  dollars  a  week,  while  daily  going  to  and  fro  be- 
tween Waltham  and  Cambridge. 

In  a  letter  to  her  cousin  in  Devonshire  written  during  her  apprentice- 
ship, she  says: 

"  I  am  studying  hard  now  in  order  to  make  myself  as  useful  a  mem- 
ber of  society  as  I  can.  I  have  commenced  to  learn  a  trade  so  as  to 
have  one  thing  that  I  know  thoroughly  to  fall  back  upon.  ...  I  start 
from  home  at  7  A.M.  daily,  and  arrive  home  at  the  same  hour  in  the 
evening.  I  have  a  three  and  one-half  mile  walk  each  way,  passing  over 
the  beautiful  Charles  River,  and  across  the  Common,  by  the  lake;  but 
I  take  an  electric  car  home  three  evenings  during  the  week,  in  order  to 
be  in  time  for  the  classes  I  am  attending  at  the  High  School  in  Cam- 


^Introduction 


bridge.  I  am  taking  bookkeeping  and  advanced  French,  and  find  them 
very  pleasant.  My  cooking,  sewing,  scrubbing,  correspondence,  etc., 
I  get  in  when  I  can  at  odd  times,  and  so  I  have,  as  you  may  suppose, 
to  cut  my  garments  according  to  my  cloth.  .  .  .  But  if  one  is  really  to 
accomplish  anything  in  one's  life-work  the  first  lesson  to  be  learnt  is  to 
give  up  some  pleasures  and  concentrate  one's  energies.  I  like  my  work 
very  well,  and  have  got  on  well  thus  far.  ...  It  docs  not  so  much 
matter  what  the  work  is  as  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  done.  If  done  with 
a  view  to  helping  others,  and  not  from  selfish  ends  merely,  then  will  it 
be  blessed.  We  are  well  and  comfortable  in  our  quiet,  restful  home. 
There  is  a  great  deal  to  see  and  to  be  learnt.  Went  to  the  pine  woods 
on  our  last  holiday  and  enjoyed  the  sweet  country  and  gorgeous  autumn 
leaves." 

In  another  to  the  same  friend  a  month  later,  she  writes: 
"  I  trust  that  you  are  having  a  happy  life,  dear  child,  happy  in  lov- 
ing and  helping  others,  without  wanting  anything  for  self,  —  walking 
through  the  world  with  calm,  undisturbed  soul,  loving  all,  as  Christ 
loved,  and  excluding  none.  It  is  not  thus  that  the  world  loves,  hence 
the  feverish  unrest,  the  desire  to  accumulate  material  wealth;  but  to 
such  the  pure  joys  of  the  spirit,  which  may  be  ours  if  we  will,  come 
not.  Happiness  depends  on  ourselves  and  the  life  within,  not  on  ex- 
ternal circumstances;  and  the  first  essential  is  to  obtain  complete  self- 
control.  I  am  trying  hard  myself,  and  you  can  help  me  if  you  will  by 
being  true  to  what  seems  to  you  highest." 

Miriam,  meanwhile,  in  her  efforts  to  make  the  pot  boil  was  confined 
to  decorative  painting,  which,  with  her  inexperience  in  finding  a  market, 
she  found  insuperably  hard  to  transmute  into  coin.  Besides  she  felt  it 
incumbent  on  her  to  remain  at  home  to  care  for  her  child,  Sunrise. 
Save  for  the  Walden  pilgrimages  afoot,  numerous  tramps  into  the  woods 
of  Arlington,  visits  to  the  Boston  Art  Museum,  and  attendance  at  lec- 
tures open  to  the  public  at  Harvard,  the  first  year  of  their  life  in  Cam- 
bridge was  outwardly  uneventful.  After  the  turmoil,  strife,  and  pub- 


Biographical  Introduction 


licity  they  had  passed  through  in  England  they  were  singularly  retiring 
now  and  held  aloof  from  all  but  a  few  whom  kindred  interests  and  a 
warm  appreciation  of  Miriam's  intellectual  brilliancy  had  brought 
within  their  circle. 

At  her  daily  avocation  Helena  made  steady  progress,  becoming  so 
skilful  at  the  case  that  she  gave  up  her  first  position  on  the  Waltham 
paper  for  a  place  in  a  Boston  office,  later  obtaining  a  more  desirable 
situation  near  her  home  in  Cambridge.  Miriam  utilized  her  spare  mo- 
ments to  turn  off  a  prodigious  amount  and  variety  of  literary  product, 
poems,  sketches,  short  stories,  essays,  most  of  which  were  dominated 
by  radical  tendencies  too  decided  to  make  acceptable  copy  for  the 
average  editor.  Many  of  these  little  gems,  satirical,  scathing,  pathetic, 
humorous,  by  turns,  found  their  way  during  1892—93  into  such  non- 
commercial publications  as  Liberty  and  Twentieth  Century.  About  the 
beginning  of  1892  Helena  visited  her  friends  in  England,  while  Miriam 
left  Cambridge  for  New  York,  where,  in  the  office  of  Liberty,  she  too 
learned  typesetting. 

For  Helena  the  vacation  of  nearly  a  year  that  she  now  enjoyed  be- 
came a  fruitful  season  both  in  opportunities  for  intellectual  growth  and 
the  making  of  new  and  valiant  friends.  After  spending  some  time  with 
her  father  in  Bristol  and  renewing  her  associations  with  old  comrades, 
she  went  to  Edinburgh  in  order  to  attend  the  noted  Summer  School 
connected  with  the  University.  Here  she  became  a  close  student  of 
Prof.  Patrick  Geddes's  courses  in  biology  and  sociology,  taking  copious 
notes  of  the  twenty-three  lectures  devoted  to  each  subject,  the  results 
of  which  are  still  preserved  in  Helena's  characteristic  chirography  in  a 
little  book  which  is  a  monument  of  compactness  as  well  as  a  mine  of 
instruction.  But  the  study  of  sociology  and  its  biological  basis  sufficed 
not  to  satisfy  her  thirst  for  knowledge,  for  she  at  the  same  time  took 
the  course  in  zoology  under  Prof.  J.  Arthur  Thomson,  besides  another 
in  botany. 

Professor  Geddes's  keen  insight  and  human  sympathy  delighted  her 


Biographical  Introduction 


no  less  than  his  erudition  in  dealing  with  the  social  and  economic  prob- 
lems which  to  her  were  of  more  moment  than  all  merely  scientific  and 
intellectual  interests.  In  a  word,  this  summer  sojourn  in  the  beautiful 
and  historic  Scottish  capital,  associated  with  congenial  and  earnest  men 
and  women,  formed  a  memorable  and  happy  experience  in  her  life. 

When  Helena  rejoined  Miriam  in  New  York  she  found  her  in  the 
midst  of  the  cholera  scare,  ready  to  rush  back  to  Cambridge.  So  thither 
they  returned.  It  would  perhaps  be  putting  the  situation  too  strongly  to 
say  that  Helena  in  all  her  plans  was  dominated  by  the  forceful  and  mag- 
netic personality  of  Miriam,  but  at  least  it  is  certain  that  her  love  for 
Miriam  and  the  child,  Sunrise,  was  a  tie  that  outweighed  every  other 
consideration.  Personal  comfort  and  self-interest  were  sacrificed  without 
stint  in  their  behalf.  With  Miriam's  intense  mother-love  went  a  tend- 
ency to  conjure  up  imaginary  dangers.  Her  mind  was  in  constant  ter- 
ror lest  some  calamity  should  befall  the  child.  It  needed  all  Helena's 
practical  good  sense  to  mollify  Miriam's  fears  and  restrain  her  ill-judged 
impetuosity.  It  was  the  mother's  custom  to  wash  daily  every  garment 
of  the  Jasgar  woolenwear  that  Sunrise  wore.  She  likewise  insisted  that 
the  floors  of  their  rooms,  which  were  uncarpeted,  must  be  scrubbed  on 
hands  and  knees  every  morning.  In  compliance  with  this  desire  Helena 
often  performed  the  task  before  going  to  her  daily  work;  and  so  exacting 
was  the  toil  which,  in  carrying  out  her  domestic  routine,  occupied 
Miriam,  that  Helena  even  found  it  necessary  to  prepare  her  own  meals 
after  she  returned  in  the  evening.  It  is  almost  indubitable  that  many  of 
Miriam's  idiosyncrasies  and  apparent  unreasonableness  during  this  trying 
time  were  due  largely  to  ill-health,  the  incipient  symptoms  of  physical 
collapse.  But  her  stout  heart  and  unconquerable  spirit  buoyed  her  up 
even  against  death  itself. 

Amongst  Miriam's  long-treasured  projects  was  one  that  contemplated 
an  Arcadian  socialist  colony.  An  Englishman  of  her  acquaintance  had 
already  acquired  a  ranch  in  California,  some  forty  miles  from  Sacra- 
mento, which  was  designed  to  form  the  nucleus  of  the  future  Utopia. 


Biographical  3f|ntroDuccion 


Visiting  the  comrades  in  Cambridge  on  one  occasion,  his  glowing  pic- 
ture of  life  in  the  Sierras,  coupled  with  an  invitation  to  hasten  across 
the  continent  and  on  the  ranch  begin  the  projected  social  experiment,  so 
effectively  fired  Miriam's  imagination  that  the  Western  pilgrimage  was 
only  a  question  of  means  and  opportunity.  To  breathe  the  pure  air  of 
freedom,  removed  from  the  squalor  and  materialism  of  commercial  civi- 
lization—  was  not  this  the  enchanting  dream,  the  cherished  ideal,  of 
Miriam's  poetic  soul?  And  it  all  seemed  possible,  almost  within  reach, 
away  on  the  lonely  Sierras. 

Pressed  by  the  fatalities  of  her  unhappy  marriage,  which  had  exiled 
her  from  England,  Miriam  suddenly  hurried  off  to  California.  Again 
did  Helena  cast  to  the  winds  every  consideration  but  that  of  faithful 
friendship.  Having  worked  her  way  in  the  printing-office  to  a  responsible 
executive  position,  she  nevertheless  gave  up  this  desirable  means  of  live- 
lihood in  response  to  the  urgent  appeal  of  her  harassed  friend,  and 
accompanied  her  to  the  West.  Though  both  her  inclination  and  judg- 
ment were  against  this  precipitate  flight,  yet  Helena  felt  that  the  time 
had  come  when  all  the  comradeship  and  devotion  of  which  she  was  capa- 
ble must  be  freely  given  to  Miriam. 

In  the  late  fall  of  1893  they  reached  the  foothills  of  the  Sierras. 
Arriving  without  warning  to  those  already  on  the  ranch,  where  no  acces- 
sions were  expected  before  the  following  spring,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
the  inevitable  discomforts  and  hardships  of  pioneer  life  should  have 
sapped  the  enthusiasm  of  the  dreamers.  The  ranch  was  beautifully  lo- 
cated in  the  hills,  among  tall  pines,  with  the  snow-capped  peaks  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  range  fringing  the  far-off  horizon.  A  fork  of  the  Amer- 
ican River  glided  swiftly  along,  while  within  easy  walking  distance  the 
silent  grandeur  of  a  deep,  chaotic  canon  allured  the  votaries  of  nature. 

The  nearest  human  habitation  lay  over  a  mile  away.  One  day,  while 
out  exploring  the  winding  river,  Miriam  came  upon  three  huts  at  the 
head  of  the  canon,  in  one  of  which  lived  a  woman  who  had  chosen  this 
lonely  spot  because  she  "  loved  nature  and  wanted  to  get  away  from  so- 


^Introduction 


ciety,  with  its  foolish  requirements  and  insincerity."  The  hermit  was 
Miss  Osborne,  who,  "  living  upon  the  fruits  of  the  earth,"  and  gowned 
in  sackcloth,  deeply  impressed  the  visitor  by  her  unique  way  of  attain- 
ing spirituality.  "When  I  turned  to  go,"  wrote  Miriam,  "I  took  her 
worn  hand  and  put  it  to  my  lips.  I  had  no  need  to  ask  who  the  empty 
huts  were  for.  I  knew  that  they  were  built  and  waiting  for  women  of 
magnetic  spirit  who  had  weighed  modern  life  and  found  it  wanting." 

There  was  plenty  of  hard  work  during  that  winter  on  the  ranch;  yet 
the  aesthetic  side  of  things  was  not  forgotten.  Inside,  the  cabin  was 
decorated  in  characteristic  fashion.  Paintings  in  oils  and  water-colors 
adorned  the  walls,  and  gay  china,  and  books  on  improvised  shelves  off- 
set the  scantiness  of  the  furnishings.  On  the  hills  Helena  found  an 
abundance  of  mushrooms,  which  proved  a  welcome  addition  to  their 
simple  fare.  She  thus  renewed  her  interest  in  edible  fungi,  cultivating 
her  knowledge  to  such  purpose  that  she  thereafter  became  an  expert  in 
practical  mycology. 

Even  before  leaving  Cambridge  Miriam  had  premonitions  of  the  end 
that  so  relentlessly  overtook  her.  Feeling  that  her  life  would  soon  be  cut 
short,  she  now  began  to  set  her  affairs  in  order,  laying  plans  for  the  edu- 
cation and  future  of  her  child.  At  length  her  sufferings  compelled  her  to 
seek  relief  in  San  Francisco,  where  she  entered  a  hospital. 

This  was  the  close  of  a  full,  intense,  romantic  life.  Miriam  Daniell 
was  born  a  dreamer.  A  beautiful,  spirited  creature,  she  wandered  with 
her  head  in  the  clouds,  yet  saw  with  acute  vision  into  the  reasons  under- 
lying much  of  human  suffering.  She  was  an  idealist,  extremely  sensi- 
tive, high-strung,  and  imperious.  Living  out  her  life  in  defiance  of  cus- 
tom and  her  own  upbringing,  she  ruptured  all  ties  that  were  less  than 
those  of  perfect  sympathy,  and  exulted  in  the  hardships  to  which  her 
course  fated  her.  Dominating  the  many,  loved  by  the  few,  she  moved 
in  isolation  of  spirit,  fulfilling  a  destiny  in  which  mingled  the  gray  and 
gold  of  tragedy  and  passionate  enthusiasms. 

Upon  Miriam's  departure,  Helena  had  remained  behind  in  the  moun- 


JlntroDuction 


tains,  only  to  be  a  helpless  witness  of  the  destruction  by  fire  of  the  cabin 
and  all  its  contents.  Miriam,  in  a  letter  from  San  Francisco,  describes 
the  occurrence: 

"  Since  I  last  wrote  you  the  ranch  has  vanished.  Smoke  was  seen  and 
a  few  tongues  of  flame  hungrily  licking  the  outside  of  the  roof.  .  .  . 
In  a  second  the  place  was  a  whirlpool  of  flames.  ...  I  lost  all  my  books, 
many  of  them  authors'  presentations  and  picked  editions  not  to  be  meas- 
ured by  money  standards  in  their  worth  to  me,  vases  and  pottery  which 
had  belonged  to  my  grandmother,  and  years  of  work  in  oil-paintings  which 
I  may  not  hope  to  do  again  for  my  child.  Truly  it  is  well  we  do  not 
anchor  to  things.  ...  In  fifteen  minutes  everything  had  gone,  only, 
smouldering,  the  lazy  smoke  blew  down  the  canon  and  wreathed  about 
the  hilltops  quietly.  It  was  over." 

Helena's  loss  as  well  was  total.  A  catastrophe  of  this  kind  cannot  fail 
to  leave  its  impress  on  character.  Helena  would  afterwards  say,  "  One 
needs  such  an  experience,  if  only  once  in  a  lifetime,  to  teach  self-depend- 
ence and  the  futility  of  relying  on  material  things  for  happiness." 

Miriam's  death  followed  almost  immediately,  April  19,  1894,  and  all 
that  had  bound  Helena  to  the  West  had  vanished. 

Her  return  to  Cambridge  marked  the  beginning  of  a  new  epoch,  for 
in  the  growth  of  that  free  spirit  and  unique  individuality  during  the  years 
that  followed  lies  the  chief  value  of  Helena  Horn's  life.  Rudely  torn  from 
the  interests  that  had  absorbed  her,  she  faced  the  loneliness  of  her  future 
with  a  mind  tuned  to  the  achieving  of  a  serene  and  hopeful  self-poise. 
This  experience  added  to  her  personality  a  quality  that  irresistibly  attracted 
and  inspirited.  There  are  not  a  few  who  date  a  deeper  insight  into  hu- 
man striving,  a  happier  facing  of  life's  uncertainties,  from  a  first  meet- 
ing with  Helena  Born  in  this  period  of  her  life.  Her  attitude  toward 
every  vital  question,  toward  every  earnest  man  or  woman  who  desired  her 
friendship,  was  frank,  open,  sincere.  She  sought  after  truth  because  it 
meant  life  more  complete,  free,  and  on  a  higher  plane  for  all;  she  strove 
for  beauty  because  it  added  to  the  fullness  of  life;  she  advocated  social 


IBtograpljiral   3f|ntroDuction 


and  economic  emancipation,  including  men  no  less  than  women,  because 
she  deemed  this  the  first  and  essential  step.  From  this  time  on  her  life 
moved  in  paths  of  her  own  hewing,  and  though  outwardly  uneventful, 
was  replete  with  fullest  realization. 

Quietly  resuming  her  career  of  labor,  in  the  late  spring  of  1894  she 
rented  a  small  room  in  Somerville  and,  living  very  simply  and  econom- 
ically, was  at  length  enabled  to  repair  in  some  degree  the  disaster  that 
swept  away  her  belongings  in  California.  As,  in  all  circumstances,  Helena 
gave  tone  and  color  to  her  environment,  so  this  little  room  grew  around 
her,  and  to  the  friends  who  knew  her,  fitted  her  as  the  bark  fits  its  twig. 

Wood-carving  was  one  of  her  sources  of  recreation  during  this  time. 
She  made  her  own  designs  and  stains,  and  no  simplest  tray  or  butter-box 
but  she  laid  her  tools  to  it.  She  bound,  too,  many  of  her  books,  expend- 
ing considerable  ingenuity  in  embroidering  the  covers.  Another  pursuit 
affording  her  especial  delight  was  the  study  of  mushrooms.  The  fungi 
were  peculiarly  attractive  to  Helena  on  account  of  their  beauty,  their  util- 
ity, and  the  interest  of  their  life-histories.  Holidays  found  her  far  afield 
for  them,  or  she  spied  them  out  as  she  went  to  and  from  her  daily  work. 
She  classified  them,  drew  them,  and  tested  more  than  thirty  varieties. 

In  1894  a  branch  of  the  Walt  Whitman  Fellowship  was  formed  in 
Boston,  and  among  its  early  members  was  Helena.  Many  of  the  essays 
included  in  this  volume  were  first  read  before  this  organization.  The 
Fellowship  meant  a  great  deal  to  her,  and  she  had  a  considerable  share 
in  determining  the  character  of  its  meetings.  She  will  be  especially 
associated  with  the  open-air  birthday  commemorations  in  the  minds  of 
this  group,  to  whom  Walt's  enthusiasm  for  the  open  air  took  on  new 
meaning  through  her  gladness  in  nature.  She  served  on  the  International 
Council  of  the  Fellowship,  for  two  years  kept  the  records  of  the  Boston 
branch  as  secretary,  and  at  the  time  of  her  death  was  president  of  the 
branch. 

"  We  look  with  hope  and  confidence  to  the  future,"  she  wrote  to 
the  International  Birthday  Commemoration  in  Manhattan,  1898,  "that 


Biographical  ^Introduction 


it  shall  be  shaped  by  the  ideals  by  which  we  are  linked  together. 
Touched  by  the  personal  potency  of < Leaves  of  Grass,'  we  may  each 
see  something  as  Whitman  saw;  we  may  attain,  as  he  did,  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  beauty,  majesty,  and  completeness  of  life,  and  with 
convincing  presence  proclaim  the  worth  of  freedom  and  individuality. 
It  is  our  joy  to  be  the  Great  Companions  of  the  few,  equals  indifferent 
of  lands,  indifferent  of  times  —  to  gather  together  not  as  sectarians,  but 
in  inclusive  unity  with  the  universal,  honoring  Whitman's  memory  not 
as  followers,  but  as  pioneers." 

As  when  in  Edinburgh,  in  the  rich  coloring  of  her  simple  gar- 
ments she  had  symbolized  her  inward  joy  and  spiritual  harmony  with 
her  surroundings,  so  for  Walt  she  always  donned  her  best  and  gayest 
garb. 

She  was  a  striking  figure.  Her  expressive  face  glowing  with  the  high 
color  she  had  brought  from  England,  and  furthermore,  lighted  by  a  pair 
of  large,  bright,  dark  eyes;  her  alert  movements;  her  dress  always  so  dif- 
ferent from  that  decreed  by  fashion; — inevitably  she  arrested  attention, 
attracting  by  her  loving  enthusiasm  and  sincerity,  or  as  strongly  repelling 
by  her  unconventionalities. 

Inclusive  as  Whitman  himself  in  love  of  her  fellows,  her  ideals  of 
friendship  were  exacting.  Friendship  had  value  to  her  only  as  it  was 
spontaneous;  never  demanding  friends,  she  took  them  simply,  but  nothing 
gave  her  more  joy  than  to  find  the  stream  of  sympathy  pure  and  lasting. 
"Love  is  the  main  fact  of  life,"  she  was  wont  to  say,  "and  the  full 
measure  that  comes  to  me  unsought  compensates  for  much." 

The  spirit  of  an  undertaking  was  always  more  to  Helena  than  the  name 
it  went  by;  and  it  is  interesting  to  have  her  view  of  the  various  forms  of 
social  effort  appealing  for  her  exclusive  support: 

"  With  me  social  effort  is  (somewhat  as  love  is)  its  own  fulfilment, 
irrespective  of  success.  ...  In  bringing  about  the  new  order,  I  am 
willing  to  further  any  of  the  various  plans  that  commend  themselves  to 
diverse  adherents  of  the  several  schools  of  thought,  if  they  are  born  of 


Biographical  ^Introduction 


love  of  liberty,  if  I  find  myself  in  accord  with  the  spirit  in  which  they 
are  conceived,  and  if  I  can  do  so  without  being  bound.  No  one  plan  is 
necessary  for  the  regeneration  of  society,  and  yet  all  are  needed  and  may 
share  in  the  work." 

To  the  end  of  her  life  Helena  accepted  the  name  of  "  socialist," 
taking  the  term  in  its  widest  sense;  but  socialism,  as  it  worked  through 
customary  channels,  had  less  and  less  of  her  sympathy.  A  disinclination 
to  sacrifice  individuality  to  a  system  was  confirmed  by  the  invaluable  ex- 
perience of  a  practical  life,  and  in  after-years  she  grew  into  the  princi- 
ples of  philosophical  anarchism. 

The  following  letter,  written  toward  the  close  of  1897,  while  unim- 
portant, is  inserted  because  characteristic  and  one  of  the  few  that  survive: 

A  good  comrade  in  the  North  of  England  whom  I  have  never  seen  writes 
to  me  sometimes,  not  because  he  has  anything  particular  to  say,  but  because 
he  feels  to  know  me  well  enough  to  express  to  me  without  restraint,  and  it 
is  a  pleasure  to  meet  on  the  ideal  plane.  Such  sympathy  widens  one's  out- 
look and  fortifies  one  to  meet  antagonism. 

In  like  manner  I  avail  myself  of  this  idle  hour  to  greet  you,  not  because 
I  have  aught  of  importance  to  make  known,  but  rather  as  an  excuse  for  let- 
ting myself  "go,"  and  not  denying  my  impulse.  There  is  so  little  room 
for  spontaneity  in  life.  .  .  . 

There  are  disadvantages  to  unconventionality  —  the  conventional  person 
always  remembers  to  say  the  polite  thing  (often  insincerely  enough !),  while 
the  natural  man  is  apt  to  be  too  absorbed  in  the  joy  of  the  moment  to  be 
mindful  of  past  obligations  which  were  sincerely  realized.  .  .  . 

I  might  have  known  I  was  not  the  original  described  to  you  by .  Of 

course  at  his  age  he  would  only  notice  young  women.  I  always  find  so  much 
character  in  the  faces  of  the  old  or  mature  to  interest  me  that  I  forget  the 
standpoint  of  youth.  .  .  . 

I  don't  believe  there  is  any  danger  of  being  "grabbed"  unless  you  sug- 
gest it  to  people  hypothetically  by  being  scared.  Just  be  fearless  and  repel- 
lent, as  I  am,  and  nothing  will  happen.  .  .  .  Just  you  keep  on;  there's 
nothing  like  it. 


iographical  ^Introduction 


I  am  sending  a  little  Schreiner  bookie,  with  my  love  and  cheery  good- 
will. .  .  . 

I  am  up  to  my  eyes  in  work  just  now,  but  I  hope  not  to  be  perpetually. 
I  hope  you  will  let  me  see  as  much  of  you  as  you  can  spare  time  for;  that 
is,  if  you  can  put  up  with  my  picnic-like  arrangements  after  your  own  well- 
ordered  environment. 

In  the  spring  of  1898  an  opportunity  offered  to  try  her  hand  at  farm- 
ing in  New  Hampshire.  Inclining  to  an  outdoor  life,  the  free  sun  and 
air,  the  dealing  direct  with  nature,  the  joys  of  the  fertile  soil,  strongly 
appealed  to  her,  and  she  heartily  entered  into  the  scheme  of  her  landed 
friend. 

EPSOM,  N.  H.,  April  24,  1898. 

Dear  E :  It  was  very  pleasant  and  cheery  to    find    your   greeting 

awaiting  me  on  my  arrival.  The  Emerson  quotations  were  unfamiliar  to 
me;  they  are  excellent  and  quite  educational  for  P.  O.  officials,  who  of 
course  in  a  district  of  such  dimensions  avail  themselves  of  every  opportunity 
for  the  improvement  of  their  minds. 

A  stormy  day  —  but  with  the  blazing  wood  crackling  merrily  on  the  new 
andirons  which  grace  our  hearth,  and  a  bouquet  of"  Mayflowers  "  exhaling 
fragrance  at  my  elbow,  life  is  not  without  charm,  and  the  whistling  wind  is 
quite  orchestral  at  times.  Our  house  is  a  few  yards  below  the  summit  of  our 
hill,  which  commands  a  magnificent  prospect,  and  for  a  secluded  country 
retreat  I  would  wish  for  nothing  better.  The  air  is  delightfully  invigorating, 
and  now  I  have  mostly  unpacked  my  freight  I  hope  to  revel  in  it  to  my 
heart's  content.  .  .  .  Thursday  I  dug  the  salsify  and  parsnips;  one  of  the 
latter  weighed  two  pounds,  five  ounces.  I  hope  mine  will  do  as  well.  We 
have  plenty  of  work  ahead,  and  I  hope  you  will  come  along  and  encourage 
us  with  your  approval.  Meanwhile  I  am  a  farmer  first  and  a  correspondent 

a  long  way  afterwards.   ...   I  have  introduced  J to  various  invented 

salads,  and  her  admiration  for  my  ingenuity  is  dependent  upon  her  escape 
from  poisoning.  .  .  . 

By  the  way,  if  you  know  any  one  with  an  abundance  of  discarded  gloves 
you  might  invite  them  to  contribute,  and  I  will  be  glad  to  wear  them  out 
instead  of  my  hands.  Men's  are  good,  because  they  are  roomy.  Only  don't 


iograptjical  Introduction 


tell  H ,  as  she  believes  in  vegetarian  gloves  and  will  scorn  my  conces- 
sion to  the  practical.  But  having  already  nearly  cut  off  the  top  of  one  of 
my  fingers,  I  refrain,  pro  tern.,  from  walking  with  my  nose  too  high  in  the 
air.  .  .  . 

Were  you  at  the  Fellowship  meeting  last  Thursday?  Tell  me  about  it, 
if  you  were.  ...  I  have  lots  to  think  of — I  don't  feel  away  from  people 
at  all,  being  rich  in  love  and  sympathy. 

Joyously  and  lovingly. 

June  25,  1898. 

Dear  Friend:  The  spirit  of  the  farmer  has  at  length  entered  into  mine, 
and  since  my  hoeing  I  survey  my  furrows  with  pride.  I  planted  a  bushel 
and  a  half  of  potatoes  and,  as  you  may  know,  that  covers  quite  a  big  patch. 
I  have  been  hoeing  potatoes  and  hoeing  potatoes.  They  have  to  be  hoed 
twice,  and  I  have  great  pleasure  in  informing  you  that  to-day  I  hoed  the 
last  row  the  second  time.  Then,  by  way  of  recreation,  I  hoe  beans,  corn, 
squash,  melons,  tomatoes,  turnips,  onions,  artichokes,  beets,  parsnips,  peas, 
pumpkins,  and  other  luscious  edibles,  which  are  doing  fairly  well.  Radishes 
have  been  crisp  and  abundant,  and  my  garden  has  also  furnished  the  table 
with  turnip-greens,  lettuce,  cress,  spinach.  I  have  been  busy  this  week 
transplanting  cabbage-plants,  Brussels  sprouts,  and  tomatoes.  The  lentils 
have  just  appeared  above  ground,  and  the  peanuts  have  not  emerged  from 
their  privacy.  The  buckwheat-field  is  commencing  to  bloom,  and  weeds 
have  a  merciless  reception.  .  .  .  My  hands  become  a  little  stiff  at  times, 
and  when  my  back  doubles  up  I  put  myself  flat  on  the  grass  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. I  enjoy  the  outdoor  work  very  much  in  the  bracing  mountain  air, 
and  feel  encouraged  to  experiment  further  on  my  own  account  in  Massachu- 
setts or  some  other  convenient  location  —  sometime.  .  .  . 

It  is  unlikely  that  my  mushroom  bed  will  be  a  success,  as  I  could  not 
give  it  proper  attention.  The  sunflowers,  nasturtiums,  and  sweet  peas  will 
be  gay  later,  and  you  ought  to  see  the  new  stone  wall.  Nothing  could  be 
more  fitting  in  this  rocky  region,  but  the  residents  favor  the  modern  wire 

fence,  alas!    B would  enjoy  the  barn,  I    am  sure.     The  barn-chamber 

is  chiefly  occupied  by  the  swallows  —  pretty,  graceful  fellows!     We  have  a 
gentle  little  cow,  eleven  hens,  and  a  cock  —  all  quite  companionable. 
With  loving  thoughts  of  you  all. 


315iograpl)ual  Klntro&uctton 


In  her  first  conceived  plan  this  experiment  was  to  have  been  prelim- 
inary to  a  settled  residence  in  some  country  spot  where  her  food  might 
come  straight  from  her  own  tillage,  her  cottage  the  home  of  simple  com- 
radeships; but  the  summer  she  passed  in  Epsom  witnessed  Helena's  final 
attempt  to  materialize  those  visions  of  the  ideal  community  life  which  she 
had  shared  with  Miriam.  Any  lingering  illusion  she  may  have  entertained 
regarding  the  feasibility  of  such  a  project  was  dispelled  by  this  five- 
months'  hand-to-hand  contest  with  nature,  and  in  the  fall  she  returned 
once  more  to  the  life  of  the  city. 

During  the  next  two  years  —  all  that  remained  to  her  —  she  lived  in 
Boston,  finding  little  time  to  spare  for  recreation  from  her  daily  toil,  yet 
producing  during  this  time  her  best  literary  work  and  living  a  life  of 
noble  elevation  and  completeness.  Suddenly  and  mysteriously  attacked 
by  a  fatal  disease,  the  first  pangs  of  parting  subdued,  calmly  she  bade 
farewell  to  life  and  all  the  joy,  present  and  to  come,  that  it  held  for  her. 
"  Death  is  good,  too,"  she  said.  She  passed  away  February  27,  1901. 
A  few  days  later  her  body  was  given  to  the  flames,  and  her  ashes  lie 
scattered  on  the  shore  of  Walden  Pond. 

As  the  story  of  her  achievements  is  one  of  unfolding  and  consistent 
advance,  as  she  rose  higher  and  higher  to  meet  the  greater  requirements 
that  always  came,  so  in  death  she  reached  the  culmination  of  life.  To 
the  very  end,  in  the  things  of  the  spirit  she  was  rich  and  triumphant  ; 
flooding  over  her  anguish  of  body  came  anew  a  sense  of  fellowship  with 
humanity  ;  an  intense  joy  in  love  universal  that  filled  and  sustained  her. 

"  Of  her  it  must  not  be  said,"  writes  a  friend,  "  that  she  was  a  prod- 
uct of  her  environment  and  of  circumstances,  for  she  largely  had  a 
hand  in  making  both.  She  was  an  artist  ;  life  in  her  hands  was  plastic 
material,  she  shaped  it  lovingly  and  with  a  high  purpose."  What  that 
purpose  was  is  clear  in  her  writings.  She  believed  that  this  world  could 
be  made  better,  the  lives  of  men  fairer,  sweeter,  brighter,  not  alone  by 
sweeping  social  changes  from  without,  but  primarily  by  the  conscious 
effort  of  every  individual  to  attain  that  development  of  character  which 


Biographical  UlntroDuctton          Xxxv 

his  opportunities  permitted  and  his  ideals  demanded.  "  To  be  fluid, 
free,  receptive,  ready  to  sacrifice  personal  gain  and  comfort  for  large 
issues  —  these  are  conditions  of  growth  independent  of  externals,"  was 
one  of  her  sayings,  as  was  a  thought  of  Maeterlinck's  which  she  was 
wont  to  quote  :  "  Our  ideal  will  never  be  met  with  in  life  unless  we 
have  first  achieved  it  within  us  to  the  fullest  extent  in  our  power." 

From  a  spontaneous  tribute  penned  by  one  of  Helena's  friends  we 
quote  : 

"To  love  truth  in  the  abstract  is  not  such  a  rare  quality;  but  to 
love  truth  and  to  live  it,  even  in  the  smallest  details,  shows  a  combi- 
nation not  easy  to  find.  The  truth-lover  is  often  intolerant  and  some- 
times fails  to  speak  in  a  friendly  manner  of  what  he  deems  to  be  error 
on  the  part  of  another.  The  warm-hearted,  earnest,  courageous,  truth- 
lover  Helena  Born  showed  that  it  was  possible  to  follow  in  paths  thorny 
and  devious  what  she  deemed  to  be  the  truth  and  yet  maintain  a  human 
and  kindly  interest  in  those  who  travelled  on  other  roads. 

"  With  what  vigor  she  lived  and  loved,  with  what  faith  and  courage 
she  faced  her  ideals  and  disappointments!  Such  a  spirit  can  never  die; 
its  life  influence  is  immortal.  Wherever  the  longing  for  freedom,  the 
aspiration  for  truth,  the  courage  of  conviction,  are  found,  there  will  be 
felt  the  influence  of  the  ideals  for  which  Helena  lived." 

"She  was  a  singularly  complete  personality,"  says  another  who 
knew  her  well.  "Rarely  does  one  find  a  more  harmonious  development 
of  body,  mind,  and  soul.  No  part  of  her  nature  seemed  to  be  stunted, 
starved,  or  undeveloped.  It  was  as  if  she  were  continually  reaching  out 
with  invisible  tentacles  in  all  directions  to  draw  to  herself  her  own, 
that  which  belonged  to  her  by  right  of  natural  endowment. 

"  Her  intellectual  attainments  were  of  a  very  high  order,  but  she 
never  allowed  her  intellectual  development  to  stand  in  the  way  of  soul- 
growth.  She  had  an  ardent  love  for  the  beautiful,  especially  for  beauti- 
ful color,  and  artistic  expression  was  a  natural  necessity.  But  to  her,  art 
was  not  something  to  be  set  apart  from  life,  to  be  enjoyed  only  occasion- 


Biographical  3flimo&uction 


ally,  but  it  was  a  living  reality  always.  She  therefore  gave  her  assthetic 
nature  its  fling,  and  her  home  became  a  poem  of  artistic  expression. 
Objects  of  daily  use  were  beautiful  in  form  and  rich  in  color,  and  her 
personality  partook  of  her  individual  tastes. 

"  But  the  greatest  characteristic,  the  most  admirable  part  of  Helena 
Born,  was  her  fearless,  independent  spirit.  She  seems  all  her  life  to  have 
unwittingly  followed  Walt  Whitman's  injunction  to  inure  one's  self  to 
'pluck,  reality,  self-esteem,  definiteness,  elevatedness.'  She  knew  too 
well  all  the  hollowness  and  sham  of  conventional  society.  She  could 
not  be  a  part  of  it.  And  she  lived  her  own  life,  naturally,  without 
straining  for  effect,  and  gave  full  expression  to  her  individuality.  She 
did  nothing  for  effect,  nothing  for  notoriety;  she  never  posed.  Her 
ideal  of  conduct  was  spontaneity.  She  had  no  choice  but  to  live  her 
convictions,  and  she  always  strove  to  live  her  highest.  Did  this  highest 
conflict  with  conventional  forms  and  customs,  so  much  the  worse  for 
conventionality. 

"Hers  was  certainly  the  experimental  life:  there  were  no  rut  marks 
on  her.  She  always  lived,  never  vegetated.  Had  her  life  been  spared 
she  would  never  have  grown  old." 

Cheery,  inspiriting  Helena  Born  cannot  be  translated  to  paper. 
That,  with  the  help  of  what  may  be  read  between  the  lines  of  her  own 
writings,  an  image  may  be  outlined  embodying  something  of  that  glow- 
ing spirit  and  the  steadfast  aspiration  which  was  the  foundation  of  her 
life,  is  the  hope  and  wish  of  one  whose  privilege  it  was  to  know  how 
well  she  lived. 

H.  T. 

Boston,  April,  1902. 


Welcome 

Comrades,  Friends,  Lovers,  in  unison  vibrating, 
Magnet-drawn  hitherward  'cross  land  or  sea, 
Seen  or  invisible,  silent  or  speechful, 
Hand  holding  hand,  —  happy  with  me  ! 
Fearless  in  spirit,  true  to  high  purpose, 
Self-poised  and  steadfast, — gods  shall  ye  be  ! 


Greeting 

Reverently  enter  soul  to  meet  with  soul, 

With  body  unified,  divinely  free ; 

Yourself,  the  real,  above  conventions  hoist, 

As  nature's  child,  glad  in  simplicity. 

If  harmony  you  find,  associations  rich  and  symbols  rare, 

Attune  yourself  with  love  and  sympathy. 

In  frankness  ever  greet  and  spontaneity  ; 

Let  coldness  and  distrust  for  aye  excluded  be. 


WHITMAN  was  so  much  more  than  the  mere  exponent 
of  democracy  that  when  he  uses  the  words  " America  " 
and  "  democracy "  as  convertible  terms  it  is  obvious  that  he 
refers  not  to  the  existing  condition  of  society  in  these  States, 
but  to  a  more  or  less  remote  future.  He  is  careful  to  state  this, 
so  that  the  caution  sometimes  given  not  to  accept  as  an  equiv- 
alent for  democracy  the  present  system  of  representative  gov- 
ernment should  be  entirely  superfluous.  "  Democratic  Vistas," 
the  title  of  his  prose  contribution  to  our  theme,  aptly  enough 
signalizes  his  attitude.  Away,  away  into  the  distance,  stretch 
his  vistas,  and  it  is  by  reason  of  his  far-sightedness  that  he  re- 
veals to  us  so  much  that  is  beyond  our  present  attainments. 
The  prevailing  delusion  in  regard  to  free  political  institutions 
and  material  prosperity  was  apparent  to  him,  and  should  be  so  to 
all  who  accept  his  diagnosis  of  the  social  order.  An  unprece- 
dented material  success,  which  is  national  and  purchased  at  the 
cost  of  individuals,  accords  little  with  a  philosophy  based  on  a 
fine  conception  of  individuality.  The  majority  of  the  workers 
to-day  are  engaged  in  occupations  that  are  irksome  and  hence 
devoid  of  beauty,  while  the  dependent  classes  —  those  living  on 
others'  labor,  commonly  called  "independent" — are  leading 
abnormal  lives  which  force  their  productive  energies  into  arti- 
ficial channels.  As  Edward  Carpenter  points  out,  "the  outer 
life  of  society  ...  is  animated  first  and  foremost  by  fear,"  — 
at  one  extreme  the  dread  of  starvation,  at  the  other  the  dread  of 
losing  commercially  acquired  wealth. 


3|fceal 


Thus,  the  social  organism,  while  it  grows  to  vaster  and  vaster 
proportions,  is  deficient  in  that  in  which  it  should  be  supreme  — 
deficient  in  soul.  Whitman  indeed,  despite  his  joyous  optimism 
and  passionate  idealism,  finds  much  to  deplore  in  our  times  and 
lands.  The  absence  of  moral  conscience,  hollowness  of  heart,  dis- 
belief, hypocrisy,  business  depravity,  official  corruption,  greed,  — 
these  are  among  the  blemishes  revealed  by  the  moral  microscope 
with  which  he  examines  American  civilization. 

"  Never  was  there,  perhaps,  more  hollowness  at  heart  than  at 
present,  and  here  in  the  United  States.  Genuine  belief  seems  to 
have  left  us.  The  underlying  principles  of  the  States  are  not  hon- 
estly believed  in  (for  all  this  hectic  glow  and  these  melodramatic 
screamings),  nor  is  humanity  itself  believed  in.  What  penetrating 
eye  does  not  everywhere  see  through  the  mask  ?  The  spectacle  is 
appalling.  We  live  in  an  atmosphere  of  hypocrisy  throughout. 
The  men  believe  not  in  the  women,  nor  the  women  in  the  men. 
.  .  .  The  depravity  of  the  business  classes  of  our  country  is  not 
less  than  has  been  supposed,  but  infinitely  greater.  The  official 
services  of  America,  national,  state,  and  municipal,  in  all  their 
branches  and  departments,  except  the  judiciary,  are  saturated  in 
corruption,  bribery,  falsehood,  maladministration  ;  and  the  judici- 
ary is  tainted.  The  great  cities  reek  with  respectable  as  much 
as  non-respectable  robbery  and  scoundrelism  ;  in  fashionable 
life  flippancy,  tepid  amours,  weak  infidelism,  small  aims,  or  no 
aims  at  all,  only  to  kill  time.  In  business  (this  all-devouring 
modern  word,  business),  the  one  sole  object  is,  by  any  means, 
pecuniary  gain.  The  magician's  serpent  in  the  fable  ate  up  all 
the  other  serpents,  and  money-making  is  our  magician's  serpent, 
remaining  to-day  sole  master  of  the  field." 


s 


Injustices  in  our  industrial  world  do  not  escape  him.    He  sees 

"Many  sweating,  ploughing,  thrashing,  and  then  the  chaff  for  pay- 

ment receiving, 
A  few  idly  owning,  and  they  the  wheat  continually  claiming." 

I  regret  that  we  cannot  dismiss  his  strictures  as  libellous. 
They  have  at  least  enough  foundation  in  fact  to  moderate  our 
self-complacent  national  pride  and  imperialistic  inflation.  Whit- 
man's call  to  come  forth  from  such  mockery  of  freedom  and  per- 
sonal dignity  still  resounds,  —  the  invitation  to  take  our  places 
in  the  march  with  the  great  companions,  eager,  resolute,  well- 
armed,"  forth-sfeppers  from  the  latent  unrealized  baby-days,"  — 
united  in  a  revolt  inspired  by  love,  not  hate.  For  democracy 
is  not  a  class  war.  Democracy  is  conceived  in  the  interests  of 
all,  and  will  not  be  best  promoted  by  antagonism  and  aggression. 
The  poor  are  not  enslaved  by  governmental  tyranny  and  capital- 
ism alone.  Perhaps  the  real  battle,  as  Whitman  hints,  is  "  be- 
tween democracy's  convictions,  aspirations,  and  the  people's 
crudeness,  vice,  caprices." 

I  have  as  yet  barely  touched  the  fringe  of  my  subject.  I  have 
endeavored  to  introduce  the  ideal  by  showing  how  far  we  are 
from  its  realization,  and  by  showing  that  Whitman's  pride  in 
and  love  for  his  country  were  not  due  to  a  belief  in  the  finality 
of  its  institutions.  "  Others  take  finish,  but  the  Republic  is  ever 
constructive  and  ever  keeps  vista." 

The  reformer  who  pins  his  faith  to  systems  will  find  little  in 
Whitman  to  appeal  to  him.  The  deep  suggestiveness  of  Whit- 
man's work,  however,  has  a  formative  value  far  beyond  that  of 
crystallized  doctrine.  His  momentous  suggestions  create  an  at- 
mosphere in  which  they  themselves  can  fructify  and  mature. 


6  ^ijttman's!  31&eal  Democracy 

They  are  seeds  stored  with  vitality  and  untold  possibilities.  The 
full-grown  system  when  transplanted  from  the  mind  of  its  orig- 
inator into  that  of  another  is  too  often  a  mere  cumberer  of  the 
ground,  and  its  decay  is  preceded  by  inertia.  Knowing  the  su- 
perior value  of  self-acquired  beliefs,  Whitman  insists  on  the 
activity  of  his  readers  and  refuses  to  minister  to  passivity  or 
mental  comfort.  The  "  new  thought "  which  he  projects  is 
designed,  he  tells  us,  "  to  cause  changes,  growths,  removals, 
greater  than  the  longest  and  bloodiest  war  or  the  most  stupen- 
dous merely  political,  dynastic,  or  commercial  overturn." 

But  whatever  Whitman's  conception  and  attitude  toward  ex- 
isting institutions,  we  feel  that  one  who  was  in  love  with  all  his 
fellows  upon  the  earth  cannot  be  utterly  wrong.  His  pages  are 
aglow  with  love,  and  unless  we  can  approach  his  spirit  his  words 
will  bewilder,  if  not  repel.  He  was  convinced  that  the  new  prin- 
ciple of  democracy  must  not  depend  merely  on  "  political  means, 
superficial  suffrage,  legislation,  etc.,"  but  it  must  go  deeper  and 
get "  at  least  as  firm  and  as  warm  a  hold  in  men's  hearts,  emotions, 
and  beliefs  as,  in  their  days,  feudalism  or  ecclesiasticism."  The 
inconstant,  easily  diverted  interest  in  vital  problems,  so  prevalent 
to-day,  is  an  evidence  of  the  impotence  of  the  merely  theoretical 
attitude  which  leaves  the  religious  nature  untouched.  No  one 
with  keen  social  consciousness  can  doubt  that,  in  order  to  make 
possible  an  ideal  democracy,  grave  political  and  economic  changes 
are  imperative  ;  but  I  claim  Whitman's  support  for  my  contention 
that  the  impulse  to  bring  about  these  changes  will  not  result  from 
a  purely  intellectual  appeal.  The  changes  will  be  an  emanation 
from  the  right  emotion,  the  right  spirit.  Many  reformers,  weary 
of  the  apparent  failure  of  ethical  and  religious  teaching,  are  impa- 


3flueal  Democracy 


tient  of  utterances  with  any  such  implication.  Whitman's  inclu- 
siveness  should  suggest  to  us  that  the  remedy  is  not  in  a  propa- 
ganda at  either  pole,  but  in  effort  cognizant  of  the  interaction  of 
man  and  his  environment,  and  which  neglects  the  evolution  of 
neither. 

Having  looked  round  about  us  now  sufficiently  to  assure  our- 
selves of  the  bleakness  and  barrenness  of  much  in  our  immediate 
vicinity,  let  us  walk  cheerfully  and  trustfully  hand  in  hand  with 
Whitman  and  allow  him  to  lead  us  to  a  "knoll."  In  proceeding  to 
examine  the  magnificent  structure  of  democracy  before  us,  we  will 
begin  at  the  base.  There  is  no  mystery  or  complexity  in  the  con- 
struction of  this  fair  society  which  we  behold  "en  masse,"  —  a 
social  whole,  proportionate  to  nature,  perfect  in  sanity  and  health, 
—  it  is  built  up  of  "grand  individuals."  "  Produce  great  persons, 
the  rest  follows."  "  One's  self,  a  simple  separate  person,"  iden- 
tity, personality. 

"  The  quality  of  Being,  in  the  object's  self,  according  to  its  own 
central  idea  and  purpose,  and  of  growing  therefrom  and  thereto  — 
not  criticism  by  other  standards  and  adjustments  thereto  —  is  the. 
lesson  of  Nature.  .  .  .  The  idea  of  perfect  individualism  it  is 
indeed  that  deepest  tinges  and  gives  character  to  the  idea  of  the 
aggregate." 

Emerson  has  a  fine  passage  of  analogous  import  : 

"  Is  it  not  the  chief  disgrace  in  the  world  not  to  be  an  unit,  — 
not  to  be  reckoned  one  character,  —  not  to  yield  that  peculiar  fruit 
which  each  man  was  created  to  bear,  but  to  be  reckoned  in  the 
gross,  in  the  hundred  or  the  thousand  of  the  party,  the  section,  to 
which  we  belong,  and  our  opinion  predicted  geographically,  as  the 
North  or  the  South  ?  Not  so,  brothers  and  friends  —  please  God, 


8 


ours  shall  not  be  so.  We  will  walk  on  our  own  feet,  we  will  work 
with  our  own  hands,  we  will  speak  our  own  minds.  .  .  .  A  nation 
of  men  will  for  the  first  time  exist  because  each  believes  himself 
inspired  by  the  Divine  Soul,  which  also  inspires  all  men." 

This  well-poised  selfhood  is  the  outcome  of  threefold  devel- 
opment. "  In  every  young  and  old  man  after  his  kind,  and  in 
every  woman  after  hers,  a  true  personality,  developed,  exercised 
proportionately  in  body,  mind,  and  spirit." 

"I  will  not  make  poems  with  reference  to  parts, 
I  will  make  poems,  songs,  thoughts,  with  reference  to  ensemble." 

Furnishing  some  crude  basic  models  of  personality,  Whitman 
emphasizes  a  sterling  part,  —  probably  the  least  attended  to  in 
modern  times,  —  "  the  simple,  unsophisticated  conscience,  the  pri- 
mary moral  element."  The  ripeness  of  Religion,  he  tells  us,  is 
doubtless  to  be  looked  for  in  the  field  of  individuality.  It  does  not 
depend  at  all  upon  churches,  "  but  is  a  part  of  the  identified  soul, 
which,  when  greatest,  knows  not  bibles  in  the  old  way,  but  in  new 
ways  —  the  identified  soul,  which  can  really  confront  Religion 
when  it  extricates  itself  entirely  from  churches,  and  not  before." 
To  Whitman  the  universe  itself  is  as  a  road,  or  as  many  roads 
for  travelling  souls. 

"All  parts  away  for  the  progress  of  souls, 

All  religion,  all  solid  things,  arts,  governments,  —  all  that  was  or  is  ap- 
parent upon  this  globe  or  any  globe,  falls  into  niches  and  corners  be- 
fore the  procession  of  souls  along  the  grand  roads  of  the  universe. 

Of  the  progress  of  the  souls  of  men  and  women  along  the  grand  roads  of 
the  universe,  all  other  progress  is  the  needed  emblem  and  sustenance." 

It  appears,  then,  that  Whitman's  ideal  democracy  is  cotermi- 


nous  with  soul-progression,  and  for  this  the  first  essential  is  Lib- 
erty. "  Liberty  is  to  be  subserved  whatever  occurs." 

"I  only  am  he  who  places  over  you  no  master,  owner,  better,  God,  beyond 
what  waits  intrinsically  in  yourself." 

"Liberty,  let  others  despair  of  you  —  I  never  despair  of  you." 

Whitman  uses  the  words  "  liberty  "  and  "  freedom  "  in  a  very 
wide  sense. 

"More  precious  than  all  worldly  riches  is  Freedom  —  free- 
dom from  the  painful  constipation  and  poor  narrowness  of  eccle- 
siasticism  —  freedom  in  manners,  habiliments,  furniture,  from  the 
silliness  and  tyranny  of  local  fashion  —  entire  freedom  from 
party  rings  and  mere  conventions  in  politics  —  and,  better  than 
all,  a  general  freedom  of  one's  self  from  the  tyrannic  domina- 
tion of  vices,  habits,  appetites,  under  which  nearly  every  man  of 
us  (often  the  greatest  brawler  for  freedom)  is  enslaved." 

A  second  essential  is  Equality.  The  first  essential,  individual 
liberty,  born  of  self-respect ;  the  second  essential,  equality,  born 
of  respect  for  others.  "  Of  Equality  —  as  if  it  harm'd  me,  giv- 
ing others  the  same  chances  and  rights  as  myself — as  if  it  were 
not  indispensable  to  my  own  rights  that  others  possess  the 
same." 

It  still  needs  to  be  specified  that  a  belief  in  equality  includes 
the  equality  of  the  sexes,  for  there  be  many  yet  who  can  appar- 
ently glory  in  an  idea  of  equality  restricted  to  one-half  of  the 
race.  Whitman  never  falls  into  such  mental  ineptitudes,  and  he 
is  careful  to  remind  his  readers  at  frequent  intervals  that  his 
hopes  for  humanity  embrace  the  female  equally  with  the  male, 
without  any  sort  of  reservation,  for  he  sees  how  much  the  social 


io  ^tjitman'flf  3l&eal  Democracy 

whole  has  suffered,  and  is  still  suffering,  from  sex-subordination 
and  excessive  sex-differentiation.  Whitman's  ideal  woman  is 
fearless  and  possessed  of  herself,  and  in  his  "  great  city  "  the 
women  cease  to  be  predominatingly  conscious  of  sex.  They 
"  walk  in  public  procession  in  the  streets  the  same  as  the  men," 
and  they  "  enter  the  public  assembly  and  take  places  the  same 
as  the  men." 

There  is  a  beautiful  sequence  often  in  Whitman's  thought. 
Love,  the  next  important  element  which  he  exalts,  is  closely  re- 
lated to  equality,  for  as  Thoreau  shows,  love  is  only  possible  be- 
tween equals.  Whitman's  conception  of  love  comprises  two 
divisions,  —  the  amative,  the  adhesive,  —  and  he  ennobles  both. 
The  belief  in  the  divinity  of  the  body  and  the  illustriousness  of 
sex,  by  uprooting  many  false  and  unnatural  standards  which  tend 
to  undermine  character,  will  contribute  much  to  the  building  of 
"  grand  individuals."  The  bearing  of  comrade-love  on  democ- 
racy Whitman  describes  so  impressively  that  I  quote  his  words 
without  comment : 

"  Intense  and  loving  comradeship,  the  personal  attachment  of 
man  to  man,  —  which,  hard  to  define,  underlies  the  lessons  and 
ideals  of  the  profound  saviors  of  every  land  and  age,  and  which 
seems  to  promise,  when  thoroughly  developed,  cultivated,  and 
recognized  in  manners  and  literature,  the  most  substantial  hope 
and  safety  of  the  future  of  these  States, —  will  then  be  fully 
expressed. 

"  It  is  to  the  development,  identification,  and  general  preva- 
lence of  that  fervid  comradeship  (the  adhesive  love,  at  least 
rivaling  the  amative  love  hitherto  possessing  imaginative  litera- 
ture, if  not  going  beyond  it)  that  I  look  for  the  counterbalance 


'0  2f|Deal  SPentocraci? 


and  offset  of  our  materialistic  and  vulgar  American  democracy 
and  for  the  spiritualization  thereof.  Many  will  say  it  is  a  dream, 
and  will  not  follow  my  inferences  ;  but  I  confidently  expect  a 
time  when  there  will  be  seen,  running  like  a  half-hid  warp 
through  all  the  myriad  audible  and  visible  worldly  interests  of 
America,  threads  of  manly  friendship,  fond  and  loving,  pure  and 
sweet,  strong  and  lifelong,  carried  to  degrees  hitherto  unknown 
—  not  only  giving  tone  to  individual  character,  and  making  it 
unprecedentedly  emotional,  muscular,  heroic,  and  refined,  but 
having  the  deepest  relation  to  general  politics.  I  say  democracy 
infers  such  loving  comradeship,  without  which  it  will  be  incom- 
plete, in  vain,  and  incapable  of  perpetuating  itself." 

He  declares  that  "  affection  shall  solve  the  problems  of  free- 
dom," —  "  those  who  love  each  other  shall  become  invincible." 

"The  dependence  of  Liberty  shall  be  lovers, 

The  continuance  of  Equality  shall  be  comrades.  '  ' 

In  order  to  deal  with  the  question  of  democracy  to  practical 
ends,  it  is  necessary  to  discriminate  between  the  principle  of  au- 
thority and  the  principle  of  liberty  —  between  the  compulsory  and 
the  voluntary.  We  shall  have  no  difficulty  in  deciding  on  which 
side  to  place  Whitman,  if  we  bring  him  up  to  date  and  express 
him  in  current  terminology. 

"I  am  for  those  that  have  never  been  master'  d, 
For  men  and  women  whose  tempers  have  never  been  mastered, 
For  those  whom  laws,  theories,  conventions,  can  never  master." 

"  To  hold  men  together  by  paper  and  seal  or  by  compulsion  is  no  account, 
That  only  holds  men  together  which  aggregates  all  in  a  living  principle,  as 
the  hold  of  the  limbs  of  the  body  or  the  fibres  of  plants." 


As  to  political  changes,  Whitman's  utterances  are  not  without 
inconsistencies,  and  he  returns  general  rather  than  specific  an- 
swers. He  advises  young  men  to  disengage  themselves  from 
parties  when  they  enter  politics,  but  he  favors  the  continuance  of 
authoritative  tutelage  until  convinced  that  self-government  will 
not  endanger  the  State.  Concerning  himself  primarily  with  the 
influence  of  literature  in  the  promulgation  of  new  standards,  per- 
haps he  did  not  himself  fully  grasp  the  significance  of  self-sov- 
ereignty in  its  political  aspects.  But  his  meaning  is  always  defi- 
nite and  unmistakable  as  to  the  ultimate  purpose  of  democ- 
racy : 

"  The  purpose  of  democracy  —  supplanting  old  belief  in  the 
necessary  absoluteness  of  established  dynastic  rulership,  temporal, 
ecclesiastical, and  scholastic,  as  furnishing  the  only  security  against 
chaos,  crime,  and  ignorance  —  is,  through  many  transmigrations 
and  amid  endless  ridicules,  arguments,  and  ostensible  failures,  to 
illustrate,  at  all  hazards,  this  doctrine  or  theory  that  man,  properly 
trained  in  sanest,  highest  freedom,  may  and  must  become  a  law, 
and  series  of  laws,  unto  himself,  surrounding  and  providing  for, 
not  only  his  own  personal  control,  but  all  his  relations  to  other 
individuals  and  to  the  State/' 

"I  swear  I  begin  to  see  the  meaning  of  these  things, 
It  is  not  the  earth,  it  is  not  America  who  is  so  great, 
It  is  I  who  am  great  or  to  be  great,  it  is  you  up  there,  or  anyone, 
It  is  to  walk  rapidly  through  civilizations,  governments,  theories, 
Through  poems,  pageants,  shows,  to  form  individuals. 
Underneath  all,  individuals." 

Hence,  in  Whitman's  ideal  city,  there  are  men  and  women  who 
think  lightly  of  the  laws;"  "outside  authority  enters  always  after 


u 


2f|Deal  Democracy  13 


the  precedence  of  inside  authority,"  and  "  children  are  taught  to 
be  laws  to  themselves  and  to  depend  on  themselves." 

Not  the  least  valuable  portion  of  Whitman's  work  are  his  ex- 
hortations to  rebellion  : 

"  Let  others  promulge  the  laws,  I  will  make  no  account  of  the  laws, 
Let  others  praise  eminent  men  and  hold  up  peace,  I  hold  up  agitation  and 
conflict." 

Note,  also,  his  exhortation  to  the  "  lands  of  America  "  : 

"  Thought  you  greatness  was  to  ripen  for  you  like  a  pear  ?  If 
you  would  have  greatness,  know  that  you  must  conquer  it  through 
ages,  centuries  —  must  pay  for  it  with  a  proportionate  price.  For 
you,  too,  as  for  all  lands,  the  straggler,  the  traitor,  the  wily  per- 
son in  office,  scrofulous  wealth,  the  surfeit  of  prosperity,  the  de- 
monism  of  greed,  the  hell  of  passion,  the  decay  of  faith,  the  long 
postponement,  the  fossil-like  lethargy,  the  ceaseless  need  of  revo- 
lutions, prophets,  thunderstorms,  deaths,  births,  new  projections 
and  invigorations  of  ideas  and  men." 

The  existing  vaunted  American  democracy,  so-called,  is  in 
some  ways  analogous  to  the  self-contented  Liberalism  in  England 
of  half  a  century  ago.  Nothing  less  than  literary  bombs  will 
arouse  it  to  action. 

Whitman  beheld,  however,  in  America  a  peculiarly  favorable 
field  for  the  growth  of  true  democracy.  The  underlying  princi- 
ple of  the  United  States  Constitution  and  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  ;  early  colonial  traditions,  —  simple,  not  plutocratic, 
—  in  which  equality  of  opportunity  was  more  nearly  realized  than 
it  has  been  since  ;  the  subsequent  fusion  of  nationalities  ;  —  these 
and  other  considerations  fill  him  with  highest  hope  for  this  land 
of  lands.  "  Here  is  not  merely  a  nation,  but  a  teeming  nation  of 


nations."  Yet  his  love  of  country  was  never  mere  patriotism. 
"  O  America,  because  you  build  for  mankind,  I  build  for  you  !  " 
His  love  enfolds  the  world.  The  recent  military  achievements  of 
this  country  are  a  bitter  satire  on  Whitman's  cordial  acknowledg- 
ment of  contemporary  lands,  his  vision  of  the  "  continent  indis- 
soluble," and  of  "  cities  inseparable  with  their  arms  about  each 
other's  necks."  We  have  to  turn  over  the  pages  for  a  passage 
more  applicable  to  the  present.  Here  is  one  : 

"  I  will  make  a  song  for  the  ears  of  the  President,  full  of  weapons  with 

menacing  points, 
And  behind  the  weapons  countless  dissatisfied  faces." 

But 

"  Away  with  themes  of  war!  away  with  war  itself! 
Hence   from    my  shuddering  sight    to    never  more  return   that  show  of 

blacken' d  mutilated  corpses  ! 
That  hell  unpent  and  raid  of  blood,  fit  for  wild  tigers  or  for  lop-tongued 

wolves,  not  reasoning  men, 
And  in  its  stead  speed  industry's  campaigns." 

Whitman  is  in  the  main  in  line  with  modern  socialism  in  re- 
gard to  the  dignity  of  labor,  and  in  line  also  with  modern  solu- 
tions of  sex  problems  in  insisting  on  women's  economic  respon- 
sibility : 

"To  you,  ye  reverent  sane  sisters, 

I  raise  a  voice  for  far  superber  themes  for  poets  and  for  art, 
To  exalt  the  present  and  the  real, 

To  teach  the  average  man  the  glory  of  his  daily  walk  and  trade, 
To  sing  in  songs  how  exercise  and  chemical  life  are  never  to  be  baffled, 
To  manual  work  for  each  and  all,  to  plough,  hoe,  dig, 
To  plant  and  tend  the  tree,  the  berry,  vegetables,  flowers, 
For  every  man  to  see  to  it  that  he  really  do  something,  for  every  woman, 
too." 


SDemocracp  15 


It  may  be  observed  that  Whitman's  confident  expectation  for 
the  future  of  America  is  not  devoid  of  anxious  moments.  He 
sounds  notes  of  warning  : 

"O  lands,  would  you  be  freer  than  all  that  has  ever  been  before  ? 
If  you  would  be  freer  than  all  that  has  ever  been  before,  come  listen  to 
me. 

'  'Fear  grace,  elegance,  civilization,  delicatesse, 

Fear  the  mellow  sweet,  the  sucking  of  honey-juice, 

Beware  the  advancing  mortal  ripening  of  Nature, 

Beware  what  precedes  the  ruggedness  of  states  and  men." 

Whitman  provides  a  place  for  worldly  prosperity  and  material 
comfort  in  his  ideal  democracy  —  not  the  place  they  occupy  to- 
day, but  a  subordinate  one.  "  I  too,"  he  says,  "  hail  those 
achievements  with  pride  and  joy  ;  then  answer  that  the  soul  of 
man  will  not  with  such  only  —  nay,  not  with  such  at  all  —  be 
finally  satisfied;  —  but  needs  what  (standing  on  these  and  on  all 
things,  as  the  feet  stand  on  the  ground)  is  addressed  to  the  lofti- 
est, to  itself  alone."  He  is  ill-pleased  with  what  "  the  word  of 
the  modern"  —  the  word  "culture"  —  has  come  to  represent: 

"  As  now  taught,  accepted  and  carried  out,  are  not  the  proc- 
esses of  culture  rapidly  creating  a  class  of  supercilious  infidels, 
who  believe  in  nothing  ?  Shall  a  man  lose  himself  in  countless 
masses  of  adjustments,  and  be  so  shaped  with  reference  to  this, 
that,  and  the  other  that  the  simply  good  and  healthy  and  brave 
parts  of  him  are  reduced  and  clipped  away,  like  the  bordering  of 
box  in  a  garden  ?  .  .  .  I  should  demand  a  programme  of  cul- 
ture, drawn  out,  not  for  a  single  class  alone,  or  for  the  parlors  or 
lecture  rooms,  but  with  an  eye  to  practical  life,  the  west,  the 
working  men,  the  facts  of  farms  and  jack-planes  and  engineers, 


16  ^Ijitman's!  2fl&eal  Democracy 


and~of  the  broad  range  of  the  women  also  of  the  middle  and 
working  strata,  and  with  reference  to  the  perfect  equality  of 
women,  and  of  a  grand  and  powerful  motherhood.  I  should  de- 
mand of  this  programme  or  theory  a  scope  generous  enough  to 
include  the  widest  human  area." 

Whitman  relies  neither  on  the  accumulation  of  wealth  nor  on 
the  accumulation  of  knowledge  for  the  evolution  of  worthier 
national  types.  He  confides  to  us  "  the  secret  of  the  making  of 
the  best  persons"  —  "it  is  to  grow  in  the  open  air  and  to  eat 
and  sleep  with  the  earth." 

"  Democracy  most  of  all  affiliates  with  the  open  air,  is  sunny 
and  hardy  and  sane  only  with  Nature  —  just  as  much  as  Art  is. 
.  .  .  American  democracy,  in  its  myriad  personalities,  its  facto- 
ries, workshops,  stores,  offices  —  through  the  dense  streets  and 
houses  of  cities,  and  all  their  manifold  sophisticated  life  —  must 
either  be  fibred,  vitalized,  by  regular  contact  with  outdoor  light 
and  air  and  growths,  farm-scenes,  animals,  fields,  trees,  birds, 
sun~warmth  and  free  skies,  or  it  will  certainly  dwindle  and  pale. 
We  cannot  have  grand  races  of  mechanics,  work  people,  and 
commonality  (the  only  specific  purpose  of  America)  on  any  less 
terms." 

Our  poet  is  the  poet  of  egoism,  but  not  of  egoism  alone  — 
he  is  the  poet  of  altruism  equally.  It  is  rarely  that  egoism  and 
altruism  coexist  in  perfect  equilibrium.  There  are  individuals 
whose  best,  most  strenuous  effort  is  only  evoked  by  altruistic 
demands,  —  who  are  careless,  apathetic  in  regard  to  the  satis- 
faction of  their  own  personal  needs.  The  altruistic  extreme  is 
to  be  found  in  those  who  seek  to  advance  the  welfare  of  others 
at  the  expense  of  their  own  soul.  For  such  unbalanced  types 


17 


Whitman  has  no  approval.  He  sees  that  self-interest  is  an  in- 
sufficient motive  to  heroic  action  j  yet  the  complement  to  self- 
interest  is  social-interest,  and  not  to  be  confused  with  self-sacri- 
fice. Many  thinkers  who  rightly  oppose  asceticism  overlook 
this  distinction.  It  is  true  that  in  the  highest  interpretation  the 
two  interests  coincide,  but  it  makes  all  the  difference  whether 
this  truth  is  borne  in  mind  or  not  in  egoistic  statements. 

As  we  have  just  observed,  Whitman's  egoism  is  in  no  wise 
identical  with  selfishness  ;  similarly,  his  liberty  is  never  license. 

"  For  there  is  to  the  highest  that  law  as  absolute  as  any  — 
more  absolute  than  any  —  the  Law  of  Liberty.  The  shallow,  as 
intimated,  consider  liberty  a  release  from  all  law,  from  every  con- 
straint. The  wise  see  in  it,  on  the  contrary,  the  Potent  Law  of 
Laws,  namely,  the  fusion  and  combination  of  the  conscious  will, 
or  partial  individual  law,  withthoseuniversal,  eternal,  unconscious 
ones,  which  run  through  all  time,  pervade  history,  prove  immor- 
tality, give  moral  purpose  to  the  entire  world,  and  the  last  dignity 
to  human  life." 

It  must  never  be  overlooked  in  the  consideration  of  such  a  sub- 
ject as  the  foregoing  that  changes  of  letter  are  unavailing  without 
a  corresponding  change  of  spirit.  Does  not  every  radical  number 
one  or  more  conservatives  among  his  friends  with  whom  he  finds 
himself  in  closer  accord  than  with  certain  of  his  own  intellectual 
kin  ?  Solidarity  implies  much  more  than  mere  verbal  congruity. 

Can  we  find  a  niche  large  enough  for  the  cosmically  minded 
Whitman  ?  Shall  we  who  appreciate  him  label  ourselves,  or  shall 
we  abandon  the  attempt  to  express  him  in  modern  phraseology  ? 
The  orthodox  believer  claims  him  for  a  Christian,  and  the  Free- 
thinker appropriates  his  heresies  ;  the  socialist  reader  of  Whitman 


is  ^Ijitman'tf  3fl&eal 


links  his  arm  in  ours  and  enquires  why  we  do  not  identify  our- 
selves with  the  propaganda  of  collectivism  ;  and  the  anarchist, 
when  we  quote  Whitman,  points  the  finger  of  scorn  and  mutters, 
"  Aha  !  What  is  that  but  anarchism  ?  Why  do  you  not  avow 
yourselves  anarchists  ?  "  Are  they  and  similar  complainants  right  ? 
I  think  not.  We  might  ask  such,  "  Are  you  not  of  some  coterie  ? 
Some  school  or  mere  religion  ?  Are  you  done  with  reviews  and 
criticisms  of  life,  animating  now  to  life  itself  ?  "  Whitman's  ideal 
democracy  is  neither  solely  economic,  nor  political,  nor  religious, 
nor  philosophical,  nor  ethical,  nor  literary,  nor  scientific.  For  my- 
self, I  would  prefer  to  unfurl  the  banner  of  Democracy  trium- 
phantly at  the  head  of  the  procession,  followed  by  the  banners  of 
the  various  sections,  —  Socialism,  Individualism,  Communism, 
Anarchism,  Egoism,  Mysticism,  Universal  Brotherhood,  Ideal- 
ism, Sex  Reform,  Evolution,  Revolution,  etc.,  —  with  space  in  the 
rear  for  many  other  respected  groups  which  as  yet  are  disinclined 
to  claim  kinship  with  us.  A  goodly  pageant  !  Each  pioneer  divi- 
sion meeting  human  aspirations,  and  each  furthering  the  general 
plan  in  its  own  special  way.  In  such  wise  may  we  draw  nigh  unto 
the  Brotherhood  of  Lovers. 

We  cannot  linger  to  read  all  Whitman's  directing  posts;  we 
have  necessarily  omitted  many.  To  me,  they  seem  to  point  to  the 
supremacy  of  love  in  human  relations,  —  to  a  time  characterized 
by  the  full  expression  and  reception  of  individuality,  by  copious- 
ness of  life  facilitating  soul  progression,  —  to  a  time  when  mutual 
helpfulness  will  replace  rivalry,  when  non-governmental  organiza- 
tion will  spring  up  in  place  of  coercive  authority,  and  when  nat- 
ural leadership,  based  on  innate  fitness,  will  supersede  officialism 
founded  on  adventitious  extrinsic  conditions,  —  a  time  when  the 


floral  SDemocrac?  19 


social  sympathies  will  be  so  developed  that  the  regulation  of  pro- 
duction will  be  free  from  monopolistic  interference,  and  the  cre- 
ative ability  of  the  individual,  governed  by  the  wisdom  that  is  of 
the  soul,  will  find  full  scope  and  delight  in  spontaneous  work 
nicely  adjusted  to  the  needs  of  the  community,  —  the  desire  being 
to  contribute  that  which  shall  be  a  joy  and  benefit  to  all.  With 
economics  based  on  an  ethical  and  spiritual  foundation,  the  stim- 
uli which  many  have  found  only  in  the  competitive  struggle  will 
assuredly  arise  in  the  more  intense  social  passion  of  which  we  now 
and  then  see  prophetic  examples.  Whitman  conceives,  he  tells  us, 
"  a  community,  to-day  and  here,  in  which,  on  a  sufficient  scale, 
the  perfect  personalities,  without  noise,  meet,  ...  a  community 
organized  in  running  order,  powers  judiciously  delegated  —  farm- 
ing, building,  trade,  courts,  mails,  schools,  elections,  all  attended 
to  ;  and  then  the  rest  of  life,  the  main  thing,  freely  branching  and 
blossoming  in  each  individual,  and  bearing  golden  fruit." 

By  such  conceptions  are  we  fortified  in  our  faith  that  the  com- 
bined incentive  of  individual  differentiation  and  collective  prog- 
ress, in  its  spiritual  as  well  as  material  aspect,  is  destined  to  out- 
distance the  present  anti-social  form  of  competition,  abolish 
privilege,  and  lead  to  the  social  harmony  in  which  all  discordant 
notes  eventually  blend. 


in 

THE  more  sympathetic  and  fraternal  relationship  of  human- 
ity to  nature  in  primitive  stages  of  development  has  so  far 
dwindled  with  the  advance  of  civilization  that  the  attempt  to 
fully  understand  the  predilections  of  such  a  man  as  Thoreau  is 
one  of  surpassing  difficulty.  In  this  highly  civilized  republic,  in 
this  center  of  culture,  how  shall  we  induce  in  ourselves  the  sim- 
ple attitude  of  mind  which  attunes  the  human  consciousness  to 
the  sub-human  ? 

In  a  general  way  our  endeavor  has  been  to  get  as  far  from 
nature  as  possible,  and  modern  discoveries  and  conventions  have 
been  instrumental  in  widening  the  gulf.  If  this  were  all,  and  if, 
as  it  sometimes  seems,  the  hopes  of  mankind  were  universally 
bent  on  escape  to  the  artificial  and  unnatural,  the  subject  might 
be  dismissed  in  a  few  words.  But  the  march  is  no  longer  stead- 
fastly directed  to  this  goal.  There  are  frequent  halts,  and  some 
of  the  most  stalwart  have  set  their  faces  once  more  toward  the 
wild.  The  discovery  has  been  made  in  various  quarters  that,  as 
Elbert  Hubbard  remarks,  we  have  been  "  intent  on  securing 
things  not  worth  the  having."  We  have  been  content  with 
husks. 

Among  thinkers  alive  to  these  facts  Henry  David  Thoreau  is 
preeminent,  and  more  than  most  men  he  had  the  courage  of  his 
convictions.  His  imagination,  aided  by  his  cosmic  love,  painted 
the  world  beautiful.  Said  he,  "  Men  cannot  conceive  of  a  state 
of  things  so  fair  that  it  cannot  be  realized.  .  .  .  What  can  be 
expressed  in  words  can  be  expressed  in  life."  He  himself 


in  Jiature  2i 


expressed  the  higher  possibilities  of  existence  so  convincingly 
that,  for  him  "  that  hath  an  ear  to  hear,"  the  arrogance  of  lux- 
ury and  the  greed  of  possession  are  henceforth  discredited.  But 
he  did  not  expect  the  multitude,  blinded  by  the  conventions  of 
civilization,  straightway  to  arise  to  greet  the  dawn  which  met 
his  eyes.  "  Only  that  day  dawns  to  which  we  are  awake."  To 
him  the  sun  was  "  but  a  morning  star." 

Thoreau  resembles  Whitman  in  his  identification  of  himself 
with  the  universe.  In  his  essay  on  "  Walking"  he  announces 
his  desire  to  "  speak  a  word  for  nature,  for  absolute  freedom  and 
wildness,  as  contrasted  with  a  freedom  and  culture  merely  civil 
—  to  regard  man  as  an  inhabitant  or  a  part  and  parcel  of  nature, 
rather  than  as  a  member  of  society."  His  demand  is  for  litera- 
ture which  gives  expression  to  nature,  and  he  finds  none.  Whit- 
man, perhaps,  supplies  this  want  more  than  any  other  poet,  and 
Thoreau  rejoiced  greatly  in  him.  The  second  edition  of"  Leaves 
of  Grass,"  given  him  by  Whitman,  he  said  had  done  him  more 
good  than  any  reading  for  a  long  time.  It  may  be  that  his  expe- 
rience of  human  relationships  was  too  restricted  to  enable  him 
fully  to  comprehend  Whitman's  drift,  but  his  comments  reveal 
the  keenness  of  his  insight  and  appreciation. 

These  men  who  had  so  much  in  common  were  graduates  from 
the  same  school.  It  would  be  easy  to  draw  parallels.  Each  had 
responded  to  the  same  "  resistless  call,"  each  had  done  with  "  in- 
door complaints,  libraries,  querulous  criticisms,"  and  taken  to 
the  "open  road."  Their  joy  in  themselves  and  others  was  not 
confined  to  physiognomy.  "  Every  man  is  the  builder  of  a  tem- 
ple called  his  body,  to  the  God  he  worships,  after  a  style  purely 
his  own,  nor  can  he  get  off  by  hammering  marble  instead."  "  I 


would  have  every  man  so  much  like  a  wild  antelope,  so  much  a 
part  and  parcel  of  nature,  that  his  very  person  should  thus  sweetly 
advertise  our  senses  of  his  presence  and  remind  us  of  those  parts 
of  nature  which  he  most  haunts," —  which  is  almost  as  charm- 
ing a  suggestion  of  personality  as  Whitman's  "  To  a  Pupil." 

Thoreau  found  himself  growing  "  savager  and  savager  every 
day."  In  his  thought  wildness  and  freedom  are  ever  closely  asso- 
ciated. He  needed  space  to  develop  his  individuality,  and  was 
oppressed  by  luxury  and  the  needless  complexity  of  modern  life. 
He  found  it  necessary  to  get  "  back  to  that  glorious  society 
called  solitude."  In  one  of  his  letters  he  refers  to  Emerson  in 
this  connection  —  the  latter  finding  his  life  "so  unprofitable  and 
shabby  for  the  most  part  that  he  is  driven  to  all  sorts  of  resources, 
and,  among  the  rest,  to  men.  I  tell  him,"  writes  Thoreau, 
"  that  we  only  differ  in  our  resources.  Mine  is  to  get  away  from 
men."  His  withdrawal,  however,  was  not  to  solitude,  but  to 
companionship  with  nature.  Such  souls  are  never  more  alone 
than  when  surrounded  by  conventions  and  the  humanity  that  has 
adapted  itself  so  admirably  thereto.  Whitman  loved  to  "  inhale 
great  draughts  of  space,"  and  had  wondrous  revelations  from 
silent  communion  with  nature,  but  his  freedom  was  apparently 
less  disturbed  by  human  proximity. 

The  love  of  simplicity  and  distaste  for  the  artificialities  and 
refinements  of  civilization  originated  in  Thoreau,  no  less  than  in 
Whitman,  in  the  aspiration  for  soul-development.  They  have 
abundantly  justified  their  own  methods.  Their  conceptions  were 
original  because  vitalized  by  outdoor  light  and  air  and  sunshine. 
Most  people  are  what  Professor  Geddes  terms  "  ear-minded," 
instead  of  eye-minded  —  they  take  things  at  second  and  third 


n  Mature  23 


hand.  The  nature-lover  derives  his  knowledge  direct  from  the 
source.  It  is  thus  that  the  sublimity  of  assurance  is  reached. 
"  It  is  when  we  do  not  have  to  believe,  but  come  into  actual 
contact  with  Truth  and  are  related  to  her  in  the  most  direct  and 
intimate  way.  Waves  of  serener  life  pass  over  us  from  time  to 
time  like  flakes  of  sunlight  over  the  fields  in  cloudy  weather." 
Openness  and  receptivity  of  mind  conduce  to  this  result.  Man's 
life  should  be  constantly  fresh  as  a  river.  "  It  should  be  the 
same  channel,  but  a  new  water  every  instant."  Thoreau's  met- 
aphors are  most  fascinating  :  he  dwelt  in  an  atmosphere  so  much 
rarer  than  that  of  our  ordinary  commonplace  levels  ! 

His  life  was  a  protest  against  all  forms  of  tyranny.  "  It  is 
hard  to  have  a  Southern  overseer;  it  is  worse  to  have  a  North- 
ern one  ;  but  worst  of  all  when  you  are  the  slave-driver  of  your- 
self." Yet  so  few  people  are  conscious  of  being  enslaved  ! 
Thoreau  was  never  deluded  by  popular  standards.  "  The  greater 
part  of  what  my  neighbors  call  good,  "  he  said,  "  I  believe  in  my 
soul  to  be  bad."  He  demanded  something  more  than  material 
progress.  "  While  civilization  has  been  improving  our  houses, 
it  has  not  equally  improved  the  men  who  are  to  inhabit  them.  It 
has  created  palaces,  but  it  was  not  so  easy  to  create  noblemen 
and  kings.  .  .  .  The  luxury  of  one  class  is  counterbalanced 
by  the  indigence  of  another."  In  primitive  times  man  was  but 
a  sojourner  in  nature,  but  lo  !  now  "  men  have  become  the  tools 
of  their  tools."  We  are  weighted  with  self-imposed  burdens  in 
respect  to  houses,  furniture,  clothes,  etc.,  and  must  continue  to 
bear  those  burdens  until  we  heed  the  cry,  "  Simplicity,  simplicity, 
simplicity  !  "  Only  when  we  do  this  will  it  be  possible  to  loaf 
and  invite  one's  soul.  Our  lives  are  so  full  not  merely  of  things 


24 


to  be  done,  but  also  of  exaggerated  concern  about  the  doing,  that 
we  seldom  have  leisure  to  make  or  keep  spiritual  appointments. 
And  we  are  mostly  engrossed  with  what  is  altogether  irksome,  if 
not  trivial.  Thoreau  prophesies  that  "  the  truly  efficient  laborer 
will  not  crowd  his  day  with  work,  but  will  saunter  to  his  task 
surrounded  by  a  wide  halo  of  ease  and  leisure,  and  then  do  what 
he  loves  best."  Leaving  the  "  halo  of  ease  and  leisure  "  out  of 
the  question,  of  how  many  workers,  think  you,  to-day  is  this 
true,  —  that  they  do  what  they  love  best?  There  are  certain 
occupations,  indeed,  in  which  it  is  possible  to  take  some  joy,  and 
some  of  us  enter  them  bravely  enough.  A  few  months,  or  per- 
haps days,  suffice  to  damp  our  ardor.  Sooner  or  later  we  are 
prevented  from  reaching  our  highest  capacity  by  some  overseer 
or  person  in  authority  whose  estimate  of  skill  is  purely  on  a  finan- 
cial basis,  and  sadly  we  learn  to  acquiesce  in  conditions  in  which 
our  desire  for  self-realization  in  work  is  irrevocably  thwarted. 

When  Thoreau  affirmed  that  "  the  mass  of  men  lead  lives  of 
quiet  desperation,"  it  was  no  mere  figure  of  speech.  Conversa- 
tion with  the  employees  of  almost  every  business  elicits  testi- 
mony as  to  the  joylessness  of  their  work.  Yet  the  unconge- 
niality  of  their  position  is  the  least  part  of  the  hardship  —  the 
insecurity  is  worst  of  all.  The  desperation  of  the  capitalist 
differs  somewhat  in  character  and  is  attributable  to  other  causes  ; 
but  it  is  none  the  less  a  fact.  In  his  case  it  is  worry  and  ennui 
instead  of  worry  and  overwork.  He  has  no  more  joy  in  the  in- 
dustry which  affords  him  an  income  than  his  dependents,  but 
the  dollars  which  he  extracts  are  his  reward.  They  enable  him 
to  lead  a  parasitic  life  and,  did  he  but  know  it,  are  but  a  poor 
compensation  indeed  for  the  glad  expression  of  personality  in  pro- 


in  ^ature  25 


ductive  work,  the  fruit  of  one's  own  genius.  Compare  the  suc- 
cess within  the  reach  of  the  most  influential  magnate  of  society 
with  that  which  Thoreau  portrays.  "  If  the  day  and  night  are 
such  that  you  greet  them  with  joy,  and  life  emits  a  fragrance  like 
flowers  and  sweet-scented  herbs,  is  more  elastic,  more  starry, 
more  immortal,  —  that  is  your  success.  All  nature  is  your  con- 
gratulation, and  you  have  cause  momentarily  to  bless  yourself." 

The  qualities  possessed  by  idealists  are  not  those  which  make 
for  material  prosperity.  Wealth  comes  in  the  long  run  to  those 
to  whom  it  is  indispensable,  but  not  to  those  who  believe  they 
can  do  without  it  and  whose  happiness  rests  on  surer  founda- 
tions. In  life  we  choose  our  prizes  for  ourselves.  Sometimes  we 
are  disappointed  with  them  when  they  come  —  fashioned  though 
they  be  by  our  inmost  desire.  If  we  have  outgrown  the  need  for 
them  it  is  well. 

Though  he  honored  labor  and  despised  idle  learning,  yet  the 
schemes  of  financiers  and  the  expedients  of  commerce,  with  its 
vulgarity  of  advertising  and  dishonesty  of  adulteration,  had  lit- 
tle to  attract  such  a  man  as  Thoreau.  His  only  escape  from 
ways  so  foreign  to  his  temperament  was  to  the  "  impartial  and 
unbribable  beneficence  of  nature."  Political  events  were  far  less 
important  to  him  than  changes  in  the  aspect  of  physical  nature, 
—  the  drying-up  of  rivers  or  the  decay  of  forests.  The  universe 
seemed  to  him  so  aptly  fitted  to  our  organization  that  he  found 
on  every  side  something  to  soothe  and  refresh  the  senses.  As 
for  the  so-called  practical  affairs,  commonly  deemed  of  such  mo- 
ment, he  could  "  postpone  them  all  "  to  hear  a  locust  sing.  He 
feared  less  living  men  than  dead  institutions.  The  danger  of 
being  cursed  by  some  "monster  institution"  —  that  is  a  real 


26 


menace  to  freedom.  He  seeks  refuge  in  forest  wild  or  flowing 
river. 

Ordinary  clothes  are  apt  to  be  an  impediment  to  the  appre- 
ciation of  nature.  For  women  the  disqualifications  of  dress  have 
been  very  serious  —  happily  becoming  less  so,  not  so  much  from 
a  saner  view  of  the  dignity  of  the  body  as  from  the  requirements 
of  locomotive  improvements.  We  owe  it  to  the  bicycle  that 
many  hitherto  incapable  or  indisposed  to  walk  now  have  their 
blood  abundantly  oxygenized  by  the  more  rapid  motion  of  the 
wheel. 

It  is  worth  while  to  consider  the  nature  cure  in  these  days  of 
unnatural  remedies  and  unscientific  science.  After  being  daily 
in  the  open  air  for  nearly  two  years  without  drugs  or  medicine, 
Whitman  attributed  his  much-restored  health  to  this  close  asso- 
ciation with  nature.  In  his  joyous,  secluded  sun-baths  he  found 
the  sweetest  exhilarating  ecstasy.  Thoreau  believed  the  diseases 
of  the  body  could  not  be  cured  by  addressing  the  body  alone, 
and  affirmed  the  need  of  a  physician  who  should  minister  to  both 
body  and  soul  at  once  —  that  is,  to  man. 

It  requires,  however,  more  courage  than  the  conventional  man 
possesses  to  confront  nature,  as  Thoreau  did,  with  impregnability 
of  soul.  Might  not  the  heroic  virtues  be  better  developed  by 
conflict  with  the  elements  than  by  the  fratricidal  brutality  of  the 
battle-field  ?  We  stultify  ourselves  when  we  yield  to  the  seduc- 
tions of  ease.  Our  strength  approximates  to  the  demands  made 
on  it.  People  usually  prefer  to  follow  the  line  of  least  resistance, 
ignoring  the  effect  of  such  a  course  on  character. 

Thus,  it  was  Thoreau's  experience  that  travelers  generally  ex- 
aggerate the  difficulties  of  a  mountain  ascent  or  of  traveling 


'tf  3f|o2   in  ^ature  27 


through  forests.  This  was  true  even  of  the  country  folk  he  met, 
for  whom  it  might  have  been  expected  that  long  familiarity  would 
have  robbed  forest  and  mountain  of  their  terrors.  So  with  char- 
acteristic independence  he  disregarded  such  of  their  warnings  as 
he  believed  to  be  inspired  by  imaginary  fears  and  followed  his 
own  judgment.  If  he  was  lost,  he  reflected,  he  was  standing  in 
his  own  shoes,  and  for  the  time  being  living  on  the  spot  where 
he  was  standing,  and  therefore  it  was  merely  the  places  that  had 
known  him  that  were  lost  and  not  really  himself.  "  I  am  not 
alone,"  he  declares,  "  if  I  stand  by  myself." 

Our  love  of  nature  is  utilitarian.  On  our  summer  vacations, 
if  we  are  not  of  the  pleasure-seekers,  we  half  reluctantly  allow 
ourselves  a  brief  respite  from  routine  in  the  hope  of  securing 
health  or  increased  capacity  for  remunerative  work.  During  such 
periods  of  leisure  the  observer  can  estimate  fairly  well  how  large 
a  place  nature  occupies  in  the  affections  of  average  mortals.  As 
a  rule,  various  other  matters  appear  to  take  precedence,  and  the 
appreciation  of  natural  beauties  is  more  or  less  perfunctory.  The 
weather  on  such  occasions  is  apt  to  be  of  two  genders  :  there  are 
certain  days  when  it  would  be  all  very  well  for  a  man  to  venture 
out-of-doors,  but  quite  out  of  the  question  for  women.  Women 
have  unhappily  become  more  habituated  to  indoor  life  than  men, 
and  so  feel  the  deprivation  less.  The  amount  of  labor  and  ex- 
pense involved  in  damage  to  their  flimsy  attire  is  enough  to  make 
them  unwilling  to  take  unnecessary  risks.  Few  of  our  urban 
residents  of  either  sex,  however,  display  any  conspicuous  hardi- 
hood or  enthusiasm  in  their  return  to  Mother  Earth  in  her  vary- 
ing moods,  and  delight  in  the  elemental  abandon  of  primitive 
unconstraint  is  rare  to  find.  Owing  to  various  reasons,  there- 


28  3£fcittttan'0  3|Deal 


fore,  the  sanest  joys  embodied  by  poet  or  artist  in  poem  or  pic- 
ture are  known  to  us  chiefly  on  paper  or  canvas,  and  we  accept 
this  second-hand  refreshment  without  regret. 

Even  under  the  pressure  of  modern  commercial  demands  we 
might  have  more  opportunity  for  the  enjoyment  of  nature,  or  for 
following  the  bent  of  our  own  natures,  than  we  do,  if  there  were 
less  of  the  Shylock  in  our  business  dealings.  The  severity  has 
been  somewhat  relaxed  within  the  walls  of  workshop  or  office,  and 
stools  or  chairs  are  now  provided  where  a  very  few  years  ago  they 
were  rigidly  prohibited.  But  the  employee  is  still  compelled  to 
yield  the  full  legal  quota  of  time  to  the  purchaser  of  his  labor, 
equally  whether  he  rushes  at  breathless  speed  or  sits,  during  dull 
spells,  with  folded  hands.  Perhaps  this  wastefulness  is  inevitable 
at  the  present  stage  of  evolution,  and  it  may  be  a  more  humane 
system  awaits  the  growth  of  consciousness  —  that  quality  which 
modern  competitive  methods  have  done  their  best  to  enfeeble. 
The  desire  for  tangible  results  eclipses  the  desire  to  be  —  to  grow 
into  harmony  with  the  universal  life.  To  be  harmonious  with 
conditions  and  with  one's  fellows  —  the  two  streams  of  develop- 
ment are  in  this  direction.  We  evolve  not  by  mere  abstract  love 
of  nature  and  humanity,  but  by  the  specific  love,  based  on  sym- 
pathy, of  natural  beauties  manifested  in  sky  or  ocean,  animal  or 
plant,  and  by  the  love  of  soul-beauties  manifested  in  individuals. 
"  Men  nowhere  east  or  west  live  yet  a  natural  life  round  which 
the  vine  clings  and  the  elm  willingly  shadows.  Man  would  dese- 
crate it  by  his  touch  and  so  the  beauty  of  the  world  remains  veiled 
to  him.  He  needs  not  only  to  be  spiritualized,  but  naturalized, 
on  the  soil  of  the  earth."  There  is  always  a  tendency  to  value 
things  at  cost,  and  therefore  to  set  little  store  by  things  that  are 


in  Mature  29 


free  to  all.    Simple  pleasures,  like  weeds,  are  often  despised. 
"  Heaven  may  be  defined  as  the  place  which  men  avoid." 

Thoreau's  world  was  a  world  of  thought  ;  it  was  this  inner 
realm  that  delighted  him,  and  the  outer  world  was  but  the  canvas* 
to  his  imagination.  Like  Whitman  he  esteemed  diversity  and  dep- 
recated discipleship.  "  I  would  not  have  any  one  adopt  my  mode 
of  living  on  any  account,  for  beside  that  before  he  had  fairly 
learned  it  I  may  have  found  out  another  for  myself,  I  desire  that 
there  may  be  as  many  different  persons  in  the  world  as  possible  ; 
but  I  would  have  each  one  be  very  careful  to  find  out  and  pursue 
his  own  way,  and  not  his  father's  or  his  mother's  or  his  neighbor's 
instead."  His  feeling  is  akin  to  that  of  Ibsen's  Dr.  Stockmann, 
of  whom  he  reminds  us  when  he  voices  the  isolation  of  spirit  of 
which  at  times  all  highly  differentiated  types  are  overwhelmingly 
conscious  :  "  In  what  concerns  you  most,  do  not  think  that  you 
have  companions.  Know  that  you  are  alone  in  the  world." 

Let  it  not  be  imagined,  however,  that  the  love  of  nature  is  ex- 
clusive or  incompatible  with  depth  of  human  affection.  To  some 
readers  it  appears  that  Thoreau  subordinated  human  nature  to  na- 
ture. Isolated  passages  may  be  cited  in  support  of  this  view,  but, 
taking  his  work  as  a  whole,  I  find  no  evidence  that  he  lacked  the 
proper  sense  of  proportion.  In  common  with  many  other  pioneers, 
he  sought  to  emphasize  the  unpopular  side  of  questions,  believing 
that  there  were  plenty  in  the  conventional  ranks  to  champion 
orthodox  institutions.  The  conservative  tendencies  of  the  race 
may  always  be  counted  on.  There  is  every  reason  to  suppose 
that  Thoreau's  individuality  was  strengthened  by  sympathetic  as- 
sociation with  nature,  and  that  he  thereby  developed  a  higher  con- 
ception of  human  relationships  and  a  correspondingly  high  capacity 


3o 


for  such.  Here  is  one  of  his  inimitable  similes  :  "As  I  love  nature, 
as  I  love  singing  birds  and  gleaming  stubble  and  morning  and 
evening  and  summer  and  winter,  I  love  thee,  my  friend."  When 
*men  and  women  once  more  fraternize  with  nature  and  cease  to 
pay  homage  to  superficialities  and  shams,  will  they  indeed  love 
one  another  thus  —  with  a  love  so  spontaneous,  so  confident,  so 
constant,  so  devoid  of  calculation  ? 

Thoreau  aimed  "  above  mere  morality."  The  bounty  of  nature 
left  its  impress  on  his  thought.  His  pleasure  was  not  enhanced 
by  monopoly.  He  was  non-invasive  and  self-sufficing.  He  desired 
to  be  honest  with  his  fellows.  "There  is  none  who  does  not 
lie  hourly  in  the  respect  he  pays  to  false  appearance.  How  sweet 
it  would  be  to  treat  men  and  things  for  an  hour  for  just  what  they 
are  !  " 

In  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  in  order  to  understand  the  use  of 
materials  and  attain  intellectual  power  and  experience  on  various 
planes,  we  have  wandered  far.  We  have  learnt  the  futility  of 
many  of  our  ambitions,  and  with  the  final  needs  of  the  soul  still 
unsatisfied,  we  return  to  behold  in  the  universe  and  in  ourselves 
what  our  unpractised  eyes  had  previously  failed  to  discern.  "  The 
ears  were  not  made  for  such  trivial  uses  as  men  are  wont  to  sup- 
pose, but  to  hear  celestial  sounds.  The  eyes  were  not  made  for 
such  grovelling  uses  as  they  are  now  put  to  and  worn  out  by,  but 
to  behold  beauty  now  invisible." 


of  Eefeolt:  Belief 4 
Carpenter 

MY  suggestion  to  consider  Whitman  as  the  Poet  of  Revolt 
has  resulted  in  the  grouping  of  three  names  under  this  des- 
ignation. While  the  inclusion  of  two  transatlantic  revolt-motors 
will  preclude  any  approach  to  exhaustive  treatment,  it  may  yet 
afford  us  bases  of  comparison  of  some  practical  value,  since  Amer- 
ica has  emulated  many  of  the  defects  of  the  older  civilizations, 
and  not  a  few  of  the  problems  which  in  them  press  so  hard  for 
solution  are  here  imminent.  The  exigencies  of  the  theme  will 
involve  more  or  less  sociological  reference,  and,  if  I  hint  at  the 
application,  it  is  that,  in  so  far  as  I  apprehend  the  master's  song, 
although  it  now  and  then  contains  the  invitation  to  loaf,  yet  the 
dominant  note  is  "  March  !  " 

"  Whoever  you  are,  come  forth  !  or  man  or  woman,  come  forth  ! 
You  must  not  stay  sleeping  and  dallying  there  in  the  house  though  you 
built  it,  or  though  it  has  been  built  for  you! " 

It  may  almost  seem  that  for  Whitman  Fellows  the  "passing  hour" 
which  he  yields  us,  "  in  our  tracks  to  pause  oblivious,"  recurs 
with  undue  frequency  —  not  as  an  interval  of  needed  rest  in  the 
resistless  march  of  compact  ranks  over  toilsome  roads,  but  as  a 
serene  goal  of  complacency  wherein  we  might  be  more  fittingly 
lulled  by  "  piano-tunes  "  than  by  the  blast  of  the  trumpet  and 
the  far-off  daybreak  call  of  "  Pioneers  !  O  Pioneers  !  " 

It  is  so  much  less  disturbing  to  speculate  as  to  whether,  for 


32 


instance,  "  Leaves  of  Grass  "  is  entitled  to  rank  as  poetry,  than 
it  is  to  enter  into  the  atmosphere  of  the  poet's  thought,  and  from 
thence  to  pursue  our  own  flights  —  to  do  our  part  as  he  has 
done  his.  For  the  acceptance  of  this  "  utterance  from  full-grown 
human  personality,  as  from  a  tree  growing  in  itself,  or  any  other 
objective  fact  of  the  universe,  from  its  own  laws,  oblivious  of 
conformity,"  it  may  be  necessary  to  prepare  ourselves  by  the  re- 
adjustment of  the  bases  of  our  individual  lives  and  by  a  concep- 
tion of  deeper  ethical,  social,  and  political  purposes.  Since  Whit- 
man has  repeatedly  assured  us  that  no  one  will  understand  his 
verses  "  who  insists  upon  viewing  them  as  a  literary  perform- 
ance, or  attempt  at  such  performance,  or  as  aiming  mainly  towards 
art  or  aestheticism,"  it  is  clear  that  we  cannot  ignore  the  wider 
trend  of  his  muse  —  "needs  newer,  larger,  stronger,  keener  com- 
pensations and  compellers." 

Whitmanites,  too,  can  hardly  fail  to  be  conscious  of  the  dan- 
gers incidental  to  a  broad,  all-inclusive  tolerance  of  all  philos- 
ophies and  creeds  —  the  danger  of  degenerating  into  the  laissez- 
faire  attitude  of  stagnation.  Whitman,  however,  has  demon- 
strated —  none  better  —  that  tolerance  is  compatible  with  the 
strongest  personal  conviction  and  a  tenacity  of  purpose  against 
which  the  little  hammers  of  convention,  expediency,  and  the 
like,  strike  their  impotent  blows  in  vain.  The  optimism  which 
refuses  to  acknowledge  absolute  evil,  which  discerns  only  good 
in  the  universe,  —  not  excluding  pain  and  suffering,  —  is  but  half 
expressed  unless  it  also  recognizes  that,  albeit  the  soul  evolves 
through  suffering,  yet  the  aspiring  and  combative  effort,  the  re- 
volt against  tyranny,  are  also  good  and  necessary  to  the  world's 
advancement.  Whitman  held  that  : 


}->orts   of  UrUolr  33 

u  The  eager  and  often  inconsiderate  appeals  of  reformers  and 
revolutionists  are  indispensable  to  counteract  the  inertness  and 
fossilism  making  so  large  a  part  of  human  institutions.  .  .  .  As 
circulation  is  to  air,  so  is  agitation  and  a  plentiful  degree  of  spec- 
ulative license  to  political  and  moral  sanity." 

Among  many  who  have  taken  up  "  the  task  eternal,"  three 
men  are  conspicuous  in  promoting  this  counter-attitude,  and  our 
survey  will  be  confined  to  Shelley,  Whitman,  and  Edward  Car- 
penter. For  our  present  purpose  they  must  be  considered  not 
only  as  poets,  but  as  reformers  and  seers.  In  glancing  at  their 
familiar  portraits  we  at  once  enter  the  realm  of  reality  and  con- 
front vital  issues,  for  these  are  they  who  convince  "  not  by  ar- 
guments, similes,  rhymes ;  "  they  convince  by  their  "  presence." 
In  addition  to  their  revolutionary  writings,  they  have  all  pio- 
neered valiantly  in  their  lives,  and  therefore  appeal  to  us  with  the 
only  authority  some  of  us  would  be  willing  to  heed,  —  that  born 
of  experience, —  pointing  out  to  us  now  and  again  the  safety  or 
peril  of  the  road,  and  always  addressing  us  with  the  imperative 
"  Come  !  "  which,  in  the  annals  of  military  dictatorship,  has 
proved  so  much  more  effective  than  the  arbitrary  command, 
"  Go  ! " 

We  will  first  make  a  sort  of  composite  picture,  to  review  such 
points  of  contact  as  may  serve  to  elucidate  the  aspects  before  us, 
and  later  we  will  try  to  portray  their  more  striking  distinctive 
traits  and  divergencies. 

If  we  inquire  from  what  founts  these  inspirers  of  heroism  de- 
rive their  own  indomitable  valor,  we  learn  that  they  are  indebted 
largely  to  communion  with  nature  and  the  unseen ;  to  comrade- 
ship, the  companionship  of  the  living  and  the  dead  ;  and  to  such 


34 


subjective  equipments  as  love,  sympathy,  ideality,  mysticism, 
faith  in  human  possibilities,  imperturbability,  indifference  to  re- 
sults (material  comfort),  etc.  They  are  all  essentially  open-air 
poets,  and  the  soul  conscious  of  the  pure  radiations  of  such  ro- 
bust personalities  grows  impatient  of  confining  walls  and  seeks 
to  escape  to  the  boundless  beyond,  and  the  untamable  elements 
more  in  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  "freedom's  athletes"  — 
"  hungering,  hungering,  hungering,  for  primal  energies  and  Na- 
ture's dauntlessness." 

"Voices  of  mountain  and  star, 
Of  cloud  and  forest  and  ocean," 

are  to  the  silent  listener  replete  with  divine  lore,  and  the  visible 
world  an  open  book  of  symbols. 

««  I  lie  abstracted  and  hear  beautiful  tales  of  things  and  the  reasons  of  things, 
They  are  so  beautiful,  I  nudge  myself  to  listen." 

It  is  pleasant  to  recall  Shelley's  joy  in  nature,  and  to  picture  him 
"  companioning  the  winds  and  the  waves,"  or  writing  his  poems 
in  the  perfect  environment  of  a  pine  forest.  Then  Whitman  : 

"I  think  heroic  deeds  were  all  conceived  in  the  open  air,  and  all  free  poems 

also, 
I  think  I  could  stop  here  myself  and  do  miracles." 

Or  Carpenter: 

"Who  shall  understand  the  words  of  the  ferns  lifting  their  fronds  innumerable? 
What  man  shall  go  forth  into  the  world  holding  his  life  in  his  open  palm  — 
With  high  adventurous  joy  from  sunrise  to  sunset  — 
Fearless,  in  his  sleeve  laughing,  having  outflanked  his  enemies? 
His  heart  like  nature's  garden  —  that  all  men  abide  in  — 
Free,  where  the  great  winds  blow,  rains  fall  and  the  sun  shines, 
And  manifold  growths  come  forth  and  scatter  their  fragrance?" 


of  Ifcebolt  35 


Admissions  of  the  insufficiency  of  nature,  however,  are  not 
lacking  : 

"  For  to  tread  life's  dismaying  wilderness 

Without  one  smile  to  cheer,  one  voice  to  bless, 
Amid  the  snares  and  scoffs  of  human  kind, 
Is  hard."   .    .   . 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  conception  of  comradeship  which  occu- 
pies so  prominent  a  place  in  Whitman's  and  Carpenter's  ideals. 
Following  closely  the  lines  just  quoted,  Shelley  continues  : 

"  With  deathless  minds  which  leave  where  they  have  passed 
A  path  of  light,  my  soul  communion  knew 
Till  from  that  glorious  intercourse,  at  last, 
As  from  a  mine  of  magic  store,  I  drew 
Words  which  were  weapons;  —  round  my  heart  there  grew 
The  adamantine  armor  of  their  power." 

The  profounder  social  and  political  significance  of  comrade- 
ship, as  conceived  by  Whitman  and  Carpenter,  will  be  touched 
upon  further  on. 

As  might  be  inferred,  intervals  of  time  and  place  notwithstand- 
ing, we  find  that  the  citadels  against  which  our  poets  have  directed 
their  attacks  are  often  identical  in  structure.  "  The  whole  ques- 
tion hangs  together  and  fastens  and  links  all  peoples."  Tyranny 
has  many  forms,  and  the  majestic  figure  of  Liberty  never  ceases 
to  beckon.  The  indictment  against  a  capitalistic  regime,  which  en- 
riches the  few  at  the  expense  of  the  life-blood  of  the  many,  dis- 
covers a  vulnerable  place  in  our  boasted  civilization  and  pros- 
perity. The  difference  "  between  a  splendid  and  a  happy  land  " 
needs  still  to  be  emphasized.  When  Shelley  showers  obloquy 
on  the  name  of  king,  we  are  reminded  of  the  possibility  of  "chang- 


36 


ing  the  place  and  keeping  the  pain."  As  Victor  Hugo  pointed 
out :  "Tyranny  resides  elsewhere  than  in  royal  palaces,  and  des- 
potism is  as  fatal  to  happiness  and  development  if  manifested 
through  a  narrow  and  intolerant  popular  spirit  as  if  it  emanated 
from  a  throne."  Similarly,  when  Shelley  declaims  against  the 
emptiness  of  religion,  we  have  little  cause  for  self-congratulation. 
We  turn  to  Whitman's  more  recent  diagnosis  and  read  :  "  Gen- 
uine belief  seems  to  have  left  us.  .  .  .  A  lot  of  churches,  the  most 
dismal  phantasms  I  know,  usurp  the  name  of  religion."  While 
Carpenter  declares  that  the  church  is  dead,  and  points  to  a  na- 
tion dying,"  dying  slowly  and  surely  of  unbelief — and  there  can 
be  no  deadlier  disease,  no  plague  of  the  Middle  Ages,  no  cholera 
epidemic  deadlier."  But  he  contemplates  the  gloomy  spectacle 
without  dismay,  for  he  has  seen  what  lies  deeper  far  than  the  life 
and  death  of  nations,  and  he  sings,  "Joy,  joy  !  "  for  what  he  has 
seen  "is  sufficient." 

Again,  democracy  is  menaced  by  custom,  which  "  maketh  blind 
and  obdurate  the  loftiest  hearts,"  and  by  dilettanteism.  "  Fear 
grace,  elegance,  civilization,  delicatesse  " ;  "  these  are  not  the 
times  of  canary  birds,  nor  of  trifling  with  art  and  philosophy  and 
impertinent  philanthropic  schemes  —  this  is  the  time  of  grown 
Men  and  Women."  Self-thraldom  must  not  be  permitted  to  bar 
the  way. 

The  subordination  of  women  is  among  the  earliest  centers  of 
attack.  "  Can  man  be  free  if  woman  is  a  slave  ?  "  Democracy 
demands  the  formation  of  robuster  ideals,  "  not  of  men  only,  but 
of  women,"  which  will  be  capable  of  realization  as  soon  as  women 
can  " bring  themselves  to  give  up  toys  and  fictions,  and  launch 
forth,  as  men  do,  amid  real,  independent,  stormy  life."  The  con- 


of  Kebolc  37 


tempt  for  manual  labor,  too,  —  shrank  from  as  "that  which  worse 
than  damns,"  —  is  a  remnant  of  the  aristocratic  spirit.  "The 
common  ambition  strains  for  elevations,  to  become  some  privi- 
leged exclusive.  The  master  sees  greatness  and  health  in  being 
part  of  the  mass." 

From  some  such  common  platform  as  that  just  adumbrated 
our  poets  go  forth  in  invincible  armor,  as  crusaders  to  battle,  re- 
cruiting as  they  go. 

"  My  call  is  the  call  of  battle,  I  nourish  active  rebellion. 
He  going  with  me  must  go  well  arm'd, 

He  going  with  me  goes  often  with  spare  diet,  poverty,  angry  enemies,  de- 
sertions." 

Following  in  their  wake,  the  possibility  of  endless  parallels 
opens  up  before  us  to  entice  the  itinerant  mind  to  desert  from  the 
red  flag  which  we  have  unfurled.  It  behooves  us  to  resist  the 
allurements  of  the  pleasure-grounds  of  literature  if  we  would 
keep  within  sound  of  the  drum. 


Putting  aside  our  imperfect  composite  picture,  which  it  is  to 
be  feared  was  rather  blurred,  we  approach  our  group  and  single 
out,  first,  Shelley,  for  closer  inspection.  It  is  the  face  of  an  en- 
thusiast who  has  retained  much  of  the  spirituality  and  charm  of 
youthen  manhood's  early  years,  when  most  men  have  succumbed 
to  the  materializing  and  conventionalizing  tendencies  of  environ- 
ing influences.  The  brave,  high-spirited  boy,  who  refused  to  fag 
at  Eton,  and  who,  exasperated  to  the  point  of  frenzy,  stood  at 
bay,  surrounded  and  hooted  at  by  his  schoolfellows,  was  typical 


38  T&tyitmzn'ti  2fl&*al 


of  the  man  Shelley,  fighting,  single-handed,  the  reactionary  and 
conservative  forces  of  society,  and  the  hosts  of  detractors,  as 
incapable  of  appreciating  his  nobility  of  purpose  as  were  the  tor- 
mentors of  his  school-days. 

Entering  life's  arena  during  the  period  of  intense  reaction  fol- 
lowing the  French  Revolution,  Shelley  must,  indeed,  have  "strug- 
gled against  great  odds."  There  must  have  been  much  to  op- 
press and  arouse  the  indignation  of  a  nature  possessing  such 
generous  sympathies  —  verily,  it  was  to  him  "the  night  of  the 
world!"  In  the  first  recoil  of  his  freedom-loving  soul  against 
bigotry  and  injustice,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  his  eager 
aim  would  be  uniformly  true  and  deliberate.  Thus  we  marvel 
not  that  he  occasionally  lacked  judgment  and  discrimination,  or 
that  he  confused  ecclesiasticism  with  religion,  but  marvel  rather 
at  the  rare  insight  which  anticipated  the  lines  of  social  and  polit- 
ical advancement  and  foresaw  the  extirpation  of  abuses  which 
were  subsequently  trampled  under  foot  in  humanity's  onward 
march.  His  onslaught  upon  the  narrowness  of  a  crystallized  or- 
thodoxy may  be  regarded  as  the  natural  outcome  of  lofty  spiritual 
aspiration  —  the  "effluence,"  as  Browning  defines  his  work,  of 
one  "whose  spirit  invariably  saw  and  spoke  from  the  last  height 
to  which  it  had  attained."  How  could  he  do  otherwise  than  dis- 
trust a  church  which  seemed  to  ally  itself  with  tyranny,  inter- 
preting the  will  of  God  as  a  rod  "to  scourge"  men  "into 
slaves,"  affirming 

.   .    .    "  that  priests  and  kings,         * 
Custom,  domestic  sway,  ay,  all  that  brings 
Man's  freeborn  soul  beneath  the  oppressor's  heel, 
Are  his  strong  ministers"? 


of  Hcbolt  39 


That,  despite  his  early  death,  the  force  of  his  life  and  work 
influenced  and  evoked  grateful  tribute  from  such  a  man  as 
Browning,  and  that  he  has  infused  many  a  humble  wayfarer 
with  exaltation  and  courage,  are  monumental  facts.  "  Child  of 
the  revolution,"  he  was  "  a  clarion-voice  of  faith,  hope,  and 
love  "  at  a  time  when  inspiring  voices  were  rarer  than  they  are 
to-day.  The  "  passion  for  reforming  the  world,"  which  he 
himself  acknowledges,  and  a  deep,  abiding  sympathy  with  the 
oppressed  were  the  basic  motives  of  his  life. 

One  or  two  quotations  must  suffice  to  illustrate  the  purity  of 
his  ideals  : 

.    .    .   "A  nation 

Made  free  by  love,  a  mighty  brotherhood 

Linked  in  a  jealous  interchange  of  good." 

..."  The  man  remains 
Scepterless,  free,  uncircumscribed,  but  man  : 
Exempt  from  awe,  worship,  degree,  the  king 
Over  himself;  just,  gentle,  wise:  but  man." 

Over  his  great  drama,  with  the  titantic  Prometheus,  prefigur- 
ative  of  mankind,  —  long-suffering,  unyielding,  and  finally  tri- 
umphant over  evil,  —  we  cannot  linger.  Shelley's  conception  of 
the  life-struggle,  which  Vida  Scudder  sums  up  in  the  one  word 
"  endurance,"  is  finely  expressed  in  the  closing  stanza. 

Many  of  his  ideals  are  yet  reserved  for  future  attainment.  To 
the  Europe  of  the  beginning  of  the  century  they  must  indeed 
have  seemed  Utopian,  and  the  steadfastness  of  his  devotion  to 
them,  regardless  of  the  anathemas  hurled  upon  him,  evidences  a 
faith  beyond  that  of  the  unquestioning  adherent  of  authoritative 
dogma.  His  note  on  the  vindication  of  extravagant  expenditure 


40  ^^itman'fl!  Jl&eal 


on  luxuries  —  one  of  the  economic  fallacies  which  seem  to 
thrive  on  repeated  refutations  —  is  an  instance  of  his  clear-sight- 
edness. His  righteous  wrath,  however,  never  degenerated  into 
vindictiveness,  for 

..."  To  avenge  misdeed 

On  the  misdoer  doth  but  misery  feed 

With  her  own  broken  heart." 

In  common  with  many  present-day  reformers,  to  bring  about 
the  consummation  for  which  he  yearned  he  relied  rather  on  the 
diffusion  of  saner  ideals  than  on  any  structural  changes  in  soci- 
ety achieved  by  an  appeal  to  force,  which  would  be  of  no  per- 
manent value,  since  they  would  leave  the  spirit  unchanged. 

.   .   .   "In  the  midst 

I  paused  and  saw  how  ugly  and  how  fell 

O  Hate!  thou  art,  even  when  thy  life  thou  shedd'st 

For  love."    .   .  . 

We  may  smile  at  the  fearlessness  with  which  Shelley  discusses 
problems  which  have  baffled  sages  before  and  since.  Such  an 
expression  as  "  ghastly  death  "  suggests  comparison  with  Whit- 
man's sublime  poems  on  death,  and  is  a  mere  instance,  among 
others,  of  crudity  rectifiable  by  experience.  His  philosophy  must 
be  adjudged  as  necessarily  immature,  and  the  world's  indebted- 
ness estimated  by  his  fidelity  and  the  scope  of  his  tendencies. 

His  appeals  to  the  men  of  England  are  among  the  most  stir- 
ring rally  ing-calls  to  arouse  the  apathetic  to  enlist  themselves  in 
the  anti-wage-slavery  war,  and  are  too  characteristic  to  be  alto- 
gether omitted  from  our  sketch  : 


ports  of  Urtiolt  4i 


"Rise,  like  lions  after  slumber, 
In  unvanquishable  number! 
Shake  your  chains  to  earth  like  dew 
Which  in  sleep  had  fallen  on  you ! 
Ye  are  many,  they  are  few. 

"What  is  freedom?    Ye  can  tell 
That  which  slavery  is  too  well, 
For  its  very  name  has  grown 
To  an  echo  of  your  own. 

"  'T  is  to  be  a  slave  in  soul 
And  to  hold  no  strong  control 
Over  your  own  wills,  but  be 
All  that  others  make  of  ye." 


We  now  come  to  the  central  figure  of  our  group  —  Whitman, 
"  the  sworn  poet  "  of  revolt,  one  of  the  "  savage,  eternal  peaks  " 
to  which  none  turn  in  vain ;  and  let  us  for  a  moment  see  him 
as  Carpenter  sees  him  : 

"Who  is  this,  for  instance,  easy  with  open  shirt  and  brown  neck  and  face 
—  the  whites  of  his  eyes  just  seen  in  the  sultry  twilight  —  through  the 
city  garden  swinging?" 

"  [Who  anyhow  is  he  that  is  simple  and  free  and  without  afterthought? 
Who  passes  among  his  fellows  without  constraint  and  without  encroach- 
ment, without  embarrassment  and  without  grimaces?  and  does  not  act 
from  motives? 

Who  is  ignorant  or  careless  of  what  is  termed  politeness?  Who  makes 
life  wherever  he  goes  desirable,  and  removes  stumbling-blocks  instead  of 
creating  them?]  " 


42          3£fcitman'0  31&eai  Democracy 

"Grave  and  strong  and  untamed, 
This  is  the  clear-browed  unconstrained  tender  face,  with  full  lips  and 

bearded  chin,  this  is  the  regardless  defiant  face  I  love  and  tnist; 
Which  I  came  out  to  see,  and  having  seen  do  not  forget." 

For  the  complete  portraiture,  here  necessarily  abridged,  see 
"  Towards  Democracy,"  third  edition,  pp.  42—44. 

As  has  been  pointed  out,  the  term  "  revolt "  ceases  to  have 
any  specific  implication  when  applied  to  Whitman's  poems,  since 
his  whole  life  and  work  were  a  revolt,  and,  to  appropriate  a 
phrase  which  he  uses  in  another  connection,  "the  indirect  is  just 
as  much  as  the  direct." 

"Piety  and  conformity  to  them  that  like, 
Peace,  obesity,  allegiance  to  them  that  like, 
I  am  he  who  tauntingly  compels  men,  women,  nations, 
Crying,  Leap  from  your  seats  and  contend  for  your  lives!" 

We  have  already  noted  sundry  accordances  in  our  group,  and 
it  remains  to  observe  some  divergences  arising  from  differences 
of  environment,  maturer  philosophy,  and  more  nearly  perfect 
cosmic  vision.  While  Shelley  was  continually  opposing  himself 
against  institutions,  Whitman  asserts  that  he  is  "neither  for  nor 
against  institutions."  Whitman  appears  to  have  been  concerned 
primarily  with  his  own  soul,  determined  to  dismiss  whatever 
should  insult  it ;  therefore,  although  he  is  indifferent  to  institu- 
tions, as  such,  it  may  often  happen  that  in  defending  his  own  in- 
terior integrity  he  becomes  a  stern  opponent.  He  bids  "  neither 
for  soft  eulogies,  big  money  returns,  nor  the  approbation  of  ex- 
isting schools  and  conventions,"  and  often  has  scathing  stric- 
tures to  offer  anent  the  said  schools  and  conventions.  He  con- 


.  of  Hebolt  43 


fronts  "  peace,  security,  and  all  the  settled  laws  to  unsettle 
them." 

Yet  Whitman  does  not  rail,  as  some  esthetes  and  reformers 
have  done,  against  materialistic  achievements,  but  accepts  them 
with  pride  and  joy,  and  for  a  moment  the  eat-drink-and-be-merry 
section  might  deem  him  on  their  side.  Vain  illusion  !  "  Is 
there,"  he  demands,  "a  great  moral  and  religious  civilization  — 
the  only  justification  of  a  great  material  one  ?  "  Of  the  achieve- 
ments which  are  the  ultimatum  of  the  commercial  spirit  he  de- 
clares tfcthat  the  soul  of  man  will  not  with  such  only  —  nay,  not 
with  such  at  all  —  be-  finally  satisfied."  Thus  he  revolts  against 
the  ultra-mundane  no  less  than  against  the  ultra-spiritual,  and 
such  subtlety  of  thought  may  well  elude  superficial  readers  and 
confuse  them  as  to  the  poet's  drift. 

It  is  to  the  emotional  depths  revealed  to  him  in  the  Secession 
War  —  the  strong  provocation  of  war  sights  and  scenes  —  that 
Whitman  attributes  his  formative  power,  considering  America  as 
"  really  the  great  test  or  trial  case  for  all  the  problems  and  prom- 
ises and  speculations  of  humanity." 

"Come,  my  tan-faced  children, 
Follow  well  in  order,  get  your  weapons  ready, 
Have  you  your  pistols?    have  you  your  sharp-edged  axes? 
Pioneers!    O  pioneers! 

"  For  we  cannot  tarry  here, 

We  must  march,  my  darlings,  we  must  bear  the  brunt  of  danger, 
We,  the  youthful  sinewy  races,  all  the  rest  on  us  depend, 
Pioneers!    O  pioneers! 


44 


"  Have  the  elder  races  halted? 

Do  they  droop  and  end  their  lesson,  wearied  over  there  beyond  the  seas? 
We  take  up  the  task  eternal,  and  the  burden  and  the  lesson, 
Pioneers!    O  pioneers!" 

"  Rapt  with  love  for  all,"  he  emerges  from  the  "  sad  shows 
with  deafening  noises  of  hatred  and  smoke  of  war,"  to  sing  of 
"  saner  wars,  sweet  wars,  life-giving  wars." 

"Exult,  O  lands!    victorious  lands! 
Not  there  your  victory  on  those  red  shuddering  fields, 
But  here  and  hence  your  victory." 

"  Myself  and  this  contentious  soul  of  mine, 
Still  on  our  own  campaigning  bound, 
Through  untried  roads  with  ambushes  opponents  lined, 
Through  many  a  sharp  defeat  and  many  a  crisis,  often  baffled, 
Here  marching,  ever  marching  on,  a  war  fight  out  —  aye  here,  — 
To  fiercer,  weightier  battles  give  expression." 

In  certain  quarters,  by  those  who  seek  the  remedy  in  a  return 
to  belligerent  exploits,  we  are  frequently  taunted  (and  perhaps 
with  reason)  for  our  pusillanimity.  But  the  rare  emotions  which 
war  has  sometimes  evoked  must  not  be  permitted  to  perish  with 
the  decline  of  militarism,  but  must  be  transmuted  into  enthusi- 
asm serviceable  to  the  industrial  commonwealth.  The  war  spirit 
tends  to  narrow  the  sympathies  to  a  prescribed  area,  and  to  en- 
gender anti-fraternal  sentiments  towards  those  without. 

"Wert  capable  of  war,  its  tugs  and  trials?    be  capable  of  peace,  its  trials, 
For  the  tug  and  mortal  strain  of  nations  come  at  last  in  prosperous  peace 
not  war." 


of 


45 


The  fuller  significance  of  comradeship,  alluded  to  in  its  less 
heroic  phases  in  relation  to  Shelley,  will  be  unfolded  as  we  con- 
sider Whitman's  more  exacting  claims  on  its  behalf.  "  Intense 
and  loving  comradeship,  the  personal  and  passionate  attachment 
of  man  to  man,  —  which,  hard  to  define,  underlies  the  lessons 
and  ideals  of  the  profound  saviors  of  every  land  and  age  .  .  . 
carried  to  degrees  hitherto  unknown  .  .  .  seems  to  promise," 
he  says,  "  when  thoroughly  developed  and  recognized  in  man- 
ners and  literature,  the  most  substantial  hope  and  safety  of  the 
future  of  these  States."  In  this  conception,  culminating  in  the 
"continent  indissoluble,"  —  the  "inseparable  cities  with  their 
arms  about  each  other's  necks,"  —  may  be  traced  potencies 
which  are  eventually  to  triumph  over  anti-social  institutions  and 
racial  animosities.  Henceforth  nevermore  lonely,  despairing, 
baffled,  overwhelmed  in  the  struggle,  but  hand  in  hand  with  the 
Great  Companions  —  "  the  goal  that  was  named  cannot  be  coun- 
termanded." Neither  the  "  ironical  smiles  and  mockings  of 
those  who  remain  behind,"  nor  the  "  beckonings  of  love,"  nor 
the  hold  of  the  "  reach'd  hands,"  avail  to  detain  those  on  whom 
has  flashed,  for  a  brief  moment,  the  illumination  from  the  "  orb 
of  many  orbs  "  — 

"Thou  peerless^  passionate,  good  cause, 
Thou  stern,  remorseless,  sweet  idea, 
Deathless  throughout  the  ages,  races,  lands." 

Always  mindful  of  the  spirituality  of  the  bond  which  unites  all 
who  have  taken  up  arms  for  freedom,  Whitman  infuses  us  with 
the  consciousness  of  the  vastness  and  inexhaustibility  of  the  is- 
sues — 


46  ^&itman'0  3fi&eal  Democracy 

"  The  joy  of  being  toss'd  in  the  brave  turmoil  of  these  times 

—  the  promulgation   and  the  path,  obedient,  lowly  reverent  to 
the  voice,  the  gesture  of  the  god,  or  holy  ghost,  which  others 
see  not,  hear  not  —  a  little  or  a  larger  band  —  a  band  of  brave 
and  true,  unprecedented  yet  —  arm'd  and  equipt  at  every  point 

—  the  members,  it  may  be,  separated  by  different  dates  and  States 
.   .   .  but  always  one,  compact  in  soul,  conscience-conserving, 
God-inculcating,  inspired  achievers,  not   only  in   literature,  the 
greatest   art,  but  achievers   in   all   art,   a    new   undying   order, 
dynasty,  from  age  to  age  transmitted  —  a  band,'a  class,  at  least 
as  fit  to  cope  with  current  years,  our  dangers,  needs,  as  those 
who,  for  their  times,  so  long,  so  well,  in  armor  or  in  cowl,  up- 
held and  made  illustrious  the  far-back  feudal,  priestly  world." 

No  one  has  confronted  failure  so  dauntlessly  as  he  has,  nor 
projected  such  brave  interpretations  of  its  import : 

"I  play  not  marches  for  accepted  victors  only,  I  play  marches  for  conquered 

and  slain  persons. 

Have  you  heard  that  it  was  good  to  gain  the  day? 

I  also  say  it  is  good  to  fall;  battles  are  lost  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  they 
are  won." 

"  We  try  often,  though  we  fall  back  often.  A  brave  delight, 
fit  for  freedom's  athletes,  fills  these  arenas,  and  fully  satisfies,  out 
of  the  action  in  them,  irrespective  of  success.  Whatever  we  do 
not  attain,  we  at  any  rate  attain  the  experiences  of  the  fight,  the 
hardening  of  the  strong  campaign,  and  throb  with  currents  of 
attempt  at  least.  Time  is  ample.  Let  the  victors  come  after  us. 
.  .  .  Yet  there  is  an  immortal  courage  and  prophecy  in  every 
sane  soul  that  cannot,  must  not,  under  any  circumstances,  capit- 
ulate. Vive,  the  attack  —  the  perennial  assault!  Vive,  the  un- 


of  Kebolt  47 


popular  cause  —  the  spirit  that  audaciously  aims  —  the  never- 
abandon'd  efforts,  pursued  the  same  amid  opposing  proofs  and 
precedents." 

Noteworthy  as  a  differentiation  in  method  is  Whitman's  aban- 
donment of  the  political  claims,  the  assertion  of  which  he  leaves 
to  others,  relying  on  "  Literature  —  a  new,  superb,  democratic 
literature  —  to  be  the  medicine  and  lever,  and  (with  Art)  the 
chief  influence  in  modern  civilization."  This  constructive  work, 
for  which  literature  is  to  be  a  lever  ("  great  poets  and  great 
audiences,  too  "),  is  to  be  no  mere  surface  veneer,  but  to  revo- 
lutionize the  entire  life.  "  The  building  up  of  the  masses  "  is 
to  be  accomplished  by  "  building  up  grand  individuals"  —  cen- 
ters from  which  proceed  the  "  quenchless,  indispensable  fire." 

But  whatever  the  method,  his  supreme  faith  in  liberty  remains 
unabated,  and,  as  to  France,  when  her  harsh,  discordant  natal 
screams  reach  him  over  the  waves,  his  loving  response  is  ever 
forthcoming  : 

"Pale,  silent,  stern,  what  could  I  say  to  that  long-accrued  retribution? 
Could  I  wish  humanity  different? 
Could  I  wish  the  people  made  of  wood  and  stone? 
Or  that  there  be  no  justice  in  destiny  or  time?  " 

"Then  courage,  European  revolter,  revoltress! 
For  till  all  ceases  neither  must  you  cease. 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  are  for,  (I  do  not  know  what  I  am  for  myself, 

nor  what  anything  is  for,) 

But  I  will  search  carefully  for  it  even  in  being  foil'd, 
In   defeat,    poverty,   misconception,    imprisonment  —  for    they,    too,  are 

great." 


48 


Carpenter 

It  remains  now  to  complete  our  triad.  Not  amid  the  clash  of 
swords  and  armed  battalions,  but  in  the  tumult  of  the  deadlier 
strife  between  classes  nearing  the  long-deferred  settlement  of 
arrears,  has  Edward  Carpenter  gained  the  power  to  speak  words. 
Adjusted  to  England,  as  Whitman  was  to  America,  moving  in 
and  out,  accepted  by  the  people,  sharing  the  heroisms  of  their 
daily  life,  identifying  himself  with  all  things,  witness  of  continual 
violations  of  the  law  of  liberty  —  he,  too,  comes  with  a  promise 
of  deliverance,  and  with  exhortation  to  courage  and  the  daring 
deed  : 

"See,  you  are  in  prison,  and  I  can  give  you  space; 

You  are  choked  down  below  there,  and  I  can  give  you  the  pure  intoxica- 
ting air  of  the  mountains  to  breathe; 

I  can  make  you  a  king  and  show  you  all  the  lands  of  the  earth; 
And  from  yourself  to  yourself  I  can  deliver  you." 

A  promulgator  of  the  gospel  of  personal  honesty,  he  has  done 
much  to  simplify  the  problems  as  a  remedy  for  which  such  vari- 
ous recipes  have  been  proposed,  emphasizing  "  the  importance  of 
mere  personal  actions  as  in  a  sense  preceding  all  schemes  and  de- 
termining whether  they  are  to  ripen  to  any  fruitful  end  or  not." 
In  his  impeachment  of  plutocratic  ideals  and  the  luxurious  acces- 
sories of  wealth  he  is  more  definitely  advocative  of  the  simplifi- 
cation of  life  than  Whitman  : 

ft 

"For  a  soldier  who  is  going  a  campaign  does  not  seek  what  fresh  furniture 

he  can  carry  on  his  back,  but  rather  what  he  can  leave  behind; 
Knowing  well  that  every  additional  thing  which  he  cannot  use  and  handle 
is  an  impediment  to  him." 


of  ftetoolt  49 


Thus  he  dignifies  "  the  sweet  and  necessary  labor  of  the  day," 
the  "  few  needs,  the  exhilarated,  radiant  life."  He  invites  man 
to  uprear  himself,  to  arise  once  more  to  dwell  with  nature,  and 
he  tears  off  the  mask  from  conventions,  which  stifle  all  natural 
instincts  —  the  "  puppet-dance  of  gentility,"  in  which  even  pleas- 
ure is  alloyed  with  the  "  disgust  of  repletion,"  "  a  polite  trap  and 
circle  of  endlessly  complaisant  faces  bowing  you  back  from  all 
reality,"  wherein  men  "  condemn  themselves  to  pick  oakum  of 
the  strands  of  real  life." 

"The  common  and  universal"  —  these  contain  untold  laten- 
cies, and  it  is  impossible  to  go  beyond  them.  Ever  exalting  lowly 
and  despised  things,  inwardly  refusing  or  disowning  none,  Car- 
penter inquires  of  whoever  would  seek  to  become  a  savior  : 

««  Who  are  you  who  go  about  to  save  them  that  are  lost? 
Are  you  saved  yourself? 

"Have  you  dropped  into  the  bottomless  pit  from  between  yourself  and  them 
all  hallucination  of  superiority,  all  flatulence  of  knowledge,  every  shred 
of  abhorrence  and  loathing? 
Is  it  equal,  is  it  free  as  the  wind  between  you?  " 

He  counterbalances  the  ceaseless  unrest  of  the  modern  world 
—  the  needless  anxieties,  self-imposed  obligations,  "toy  duties." 
He  loosens  the  "  golden  hand-cuffs,"  bidding  man  "  stand  indif- 
ferent "  and  by  faith  make  himself  master  of  his  life. 

"Begin  to-day  to  understand  that  which  you  will  not  understand  when  you 
read  these  words  for  the  first  time,  nor  perhaps  when  you  have  read 
them  for  the  hundredth  time. 

Begin  to-day  to  understand  why  the  animals  are  not  hurried,  and  do  not 

concern  themselves  about  affairs,  nor  the  clouds  nor  the  trees  nor  the 

stars  —  but  only  man  —  and  he  but  for  a  few  thousand  years  in  history: 

[For  it  is  one  thing  to  do  things,  but  another  to  be  concerned  about  the 

doing  of  them.]" 


50 


Not  for  the  liberation  of  the  body  alone  does  he  sing,  but  for 
the  freed  soul  of  man,  before  whose  resistless  might  the  hirelings 
of  wealth-conferred  power  vanish  like  mists  before  the  dawn. 

"For  this  the  heroes  and  lovers  of  all  ages  have  laid  down  their  lives;  and 
nations  like  tigers  have  fought,  knowing  well  that  this  life  was  a  mere 
empty  blob  without  Freedom." 

"Of  that  which  exists  in  the  soul,  political  freedom  and  institutions  of  equal- 
ity, etc.,  are  but  the  shadows  (necessarily  thrown);  and  Democracy  in 
states  or  constitutions  but  the  shadow  of  that  which  first  expresses  itself 
in  the  glance  of  the  eye  or  the  appearance  of  the  skin. 
Without  these  first  the  others  are  of  no  account  and  need  not  be  further 
mentioned." 

In  a  young  nationality  it  is  perhaps  hardly  possible  to  realize 
the  relation  of  the  people  to  the  land,  which  Carpenter  voices 
incomparably  : 

"Between  a  great  people  and  the  earth  springs  a  passionate  attachment,  life- 
long —  and  the  earth  loves  indeed  her  children,  broad-breasted,  broad- 
browed,  and  talks  with  them  night  and  day,  storm  and  sunshine,  sum- 
mer and  winter  alike." 

"Do  you  think  that  England  or  any  land  will  rise  into  life,  will  display  her 
surpassing  beauty,  will  pour  out  her  love,  to  the  touch  of  false  owners  — 
of  people  who  finger  bank-notes,  who  make  traffic  buying  and  selling 
her,  who  own  by  force  of  title  deeds,  laws,  police  —  who  yet  deny  her, 
turning  their  backs  upon  her  winds  and  waves,  and  ashamed  to  touch 
her  soil  with  their  hands?  " 

"Of  those  who  are  truly  the  People,  they  are  jealous  of  their  land;  the 
woods  and  the  fields  and  the  open  sea  are  covered  with  their  love  — 
inseparable  from  life." 

For  "  the  earth  gives  her  own  laws,"  and  it  is  upon  the  authority 


ports   of   Urttolt  5i 

of  these  that  his  condemnation  of  landlordism  is  based,  and  of 
many  sequential  abuses  inseparable  from  the  system : 

"  I  come  forth  from  the  darkness  to  smite  Thee. — 
Who  art  thou,  insolent  of  all  the  earth, 
With  thy  faint  sneer  for  him  who  wins  thee  bread, 
And  him  who  clothes  thee,  and  for  him  who  toils 
Daylong  and  nightlong  dark  in  the  earth  for  thee? 
Coward,  without  a  name ! 

Ignorant  curse!  —  and  yet  with  names  as  many 
Alas!  almost  as  Wealth  has.     Unclean  life 
That  makest  a  blight  wherever  thou  alightest ! 
I  smite  thee  back. 
Darest  thou  yet  be  seen?    (How  long,  how  long, 

0  patient  suffering  men,  will  ye  endure?) 
Darest  thou  yet  be  seen? 

1  smite  thee  back.     Go,  return  whence  thou  earnest. 
The  gardens  and  the  beautiful  terraces, 

The  palaces  and  theaters  and  halls 

Of  our  fair  cities  shall  not  see  thee  more." 

But  this  stern  defiance  is  without  personal  rancor.  Wiping  a 
"  mirror  "  and  placing  it  in  the  hands  of  these  victims  to  greed,  he 
stands  ready  to  open  the  door  of  love  whereby  they  may  pass  in- 
to "joy  eternal." 

As  examples  of  deliberate  incitement  to  loving  fellowship  and 
organized  rebellion  against  industrial  serfdom,  I  am  reminded  of 
a  volume  of  "  Labor  Songs,"  edited  by  Edward  Carpenter,  in 
which  our  poets  of  revolt  are  each  represented.  From  mass 
meetings  across  the  ocean  I  seem  to  hear  the  reverberations  from 
a  thousand  throats,  thundered  with  the  rugged  fervor  of  men 
whose  daily  bread  is  at  stake,  and  whose  unselfish  aims  and  per- 
sistent sacrifice  for  principle  are  a  menace  to  exploiters  and  a 


52 


glorification  of  high  endeavor.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  songs  so 
relevant  to  our  theme  cannot  be  introduced  here  ;  but  hearing 
them  thus,  I  essay  no  feeble  emulation.  Within  various  combi- 
nations of  heterogeneous  elements  unsuspected  nuclei  are  slowly 
being  shaped  ;  these  are  eventually 

"To  form  an  indissoluble  union  and  compact,  a  brotherhood  unalterable, 
Far-pervading,  fresh  and  invisible  as  the  wind,  united  in  Freedom  — 
A  golden  circle  of  stamens  hidden  beneath  the  petals  of  humanity 
And  guarding  the  sacred  ark." 

In  the  more  condensed  phases  of  oligarchic  sway  and  the 
greater  relative  intensity  of  the  emotion  generated  in  a  smaller 
area,  it  is  not  surprising  that  Shelley  and  Carpenter  appeal  more 
directly  to  the  sympathies  than  Whitman  does.  Passionate  lov- 
ers of  democracy,  surrounded  on  every  side  by  survivals  of  privi- 
lege and  monopoly,  —  beholding  the  people  crucified,  —  the  iron 
must  have  entered  their  very  souls.  Yet  we  watch  in  vain  for 
indications  of  wavering  faith  in  the  midst  of  scenes  of  depression. 
In  "  the  great  coherent  Whole,"  "  all  is  well  to-day  and  a  mil- 
lion years  hence,  equally."  Differences  of  external  conditions  ex- 
plain also  occasional  distinct  variations  in  tone.  One  can  hardly 
conceive  of  the  weary,  burden-bearing  children  of  our  age,  crowded 
in  slums  and  alleys  of  Old  World  cities,  responding  to  Whit- 
man's heroic  challenges  and  joyous  martial  music,  addressed  to 
enterprising  settlers,  imbued  with  pluck  and  energy  to  conquer 
new  territory,  to  level  primeval  forests,  and  to  bring  into  cultiva- 
tion the  virgin  soil.  But  to  the  tired  wanderers  Carpenter  gently 
draws  near  with  assurances  of  peace  and  rest,  and  words  of  con- 
solation and  encouragement  inexpressibly  sweet.  In  this  way  he 


IDorrs  of  Urtoolt  53 


fortifies  them  to  fill  their  places  in  ranks  marching  to  certain 
victory. 

His  attitude  towards  success  is  characteristic,  and  comes  with 
timely  warning  to  stem  the  rising  tide  of  ambition : 

"If  you  are  successful  in  all  you  do,  you  cannot  also  battle  magnificently 

against  odds; 
If  you  have  fortune  and  good  health  and  a  loving  wife  and  children,  you 

cannot  also  be  of  those  who  are  happy  without  these  things. 
Covet  not  overmuch.     Let  the  strong  desires  come  and  go;  refuse  them 

not,  disown  them  not;  but  think  not  that  in  them  lurks  finally  the  thing 

you  want." 
• 

Like  Whitman,  Carpenter  is  free  from  all  taint  of  asceticism. 
Evil  is  not  an  objective  foe  to  be  slain  by  soldiers  of  the  cross, 
—  a  supernaturally  endowed,  maleficent  spirit  to  be  exorcised  by 
mortification  of  the  flesh  or  magic  incantation,  —  but  rather  a 
magnificent,  benign  force,  a  part  of  the  mighty  cosmos,  to  be  sub- 
jugated by  the  soul  of  man,  co-operated  with,  fraternized  with. 
Man  no  longer  renders  abject  homage  to  a  tyrant,  a  bogey,  but 
arises,  erect,  triumphant,  equal  in  majesty  and  power. 

"  For  (over  and  over  again)  there  is  nothing  that  is  evil  except  because  a  man 
has  not  mastery  over  it;  and  there  is  no  good  thing  that  is  not  evil  if  it 
have  mastery  over  a  man  ; 

And  there  is  no  passitfn,  or  power,  or  pleasure,  or  pain,  or  created  thing 
whatsoever,  which  is  not  ultimately  for  man  and  for  his  use  —  or  which 
•         he  need  be  afraid  of,  or  ashamed  at." 

Such  restoration  of  harmony  is  the  realization  of  the  refusal  of 
the  ego  to  submit  to  aught  exterior  (Whitman's  permanent  atti- 
tude towards  "  irrational  things  ") ;  it  is  "  to  be  indeed  a  God  !  " 


54 


"  I  conceive  a  millennium  on  earth  —  a  millennium  not  of  riches  nor  of  me- 
chanical facilities,  nor  of  intellectual  facilities,  nor  absolutely  of  im- 
munity from  disease,  nor  absolutely  of  immunity  from  pain;  but  a  time 
when  men  and  women  all  over  the  earth  shall  ascend  and  enter  into  re- 
lation with  their  bodies  —  shall  attain  freedom  and  joy." 

This  prophecy  suggests  questions  which  we  have  been  unable 
to  discuss  here.  It  may,  however,  aid  us  much  in  the  right  un- 
derstanding of  democratic  literature  and  ideals  to  note  the  allu- 
sion therein  to  the  intellectual,  the  disproportional  development 
of  which  is  detrimental  to  true  enlightenment.  Hence  this  fur- 
ther injunction  : 

"Take  care  (I  have  warned  you  before)  how  you  touch  these  words:  with 
curious  intellect  come  not  near  lest  I  utterly  destroy  you:  but  come 
with  bold  heart  and  true  and  careless,  and  they  shall  bless  you  beyond 
imagination." 


Btyftraan'fl 

AMONG  the  worshippers  of  graven  images  and  the  icono- 
clasts, the  pleasure-seekers  and  the  ascetics,  Whitman  tow- 
ers majestic.  Those  of  them  who  have  emancipated  themselves 
from  leading-strings  and  self-thraldom,  in  their  transition  to 
higher  planes,  discern  the  dim  outlines  of  truth.  They  decipher 
the  larger  characters  distinguishable  on  the  one  facet  before  them, 
and  offer  to  mankind  the  message,  more  or  less  dogmatically,  as 
a  complete  panacea.  Occasionally  one,  more  adventurous  than 
his  fellows,  has  ventured  near  enough  to  read  the  words  in  smaller 
type,  and  has  reached  a  standpoint  from  whence  other  aspects  of 
the  ideal  become  visible ;  sometimes  it  has  been  a  mere  bird's- 
eye  view  which  has  been  gained,  useful  for  correcting  the  falla- 
cious reports  of  the  one-sided  witnesses,  but  lacking  in  definite- 
ness  and  proportion.  If  one,  now  and  again,  has  made  a  more 
favorably  focussed  detour,  the  would-be  pioneer  has  usually  with- 
drawn in  affright,  too  timid  to  face  the  lucent  manifestations  re- 
served for  the  stout-hearted,  fearing  even  to  confess  to  the  world 
the  revelations  that  have  been  vouchsafed  to  him. 

It  has  seemed  to  me  that  Whitman  —  he  who  would  go  far- 
ther than  the  farthest  —  is  one  who  has  pointed  men  not  to  one 
facet  only,  but  who,  refusing  to  accept  a  partial  view,  has  had  the 
courage  to  encompass  truth  and  to  declare  with  sonorous  voice 
that  which  he  beholds.  Those  who  have  traveled  with  him, 
"  loos'd  of  limits  and  imaginary  lines,"  indifferent  as  to  whether 
victory  or  defeat  await  them,  —  those  who  have  ringing  in  their 
ears  his  bugle-call,  "  Yourself,  yourself,  yourself,  forever  and 


56  ^fcttman'sf  31tieal  SDentocrac^ 

ever,"  —  know  well  how  inimitably  he  has  sung  of  personality 
and  proclaimed  the  joys  of  self-realization.  They  know,  also, 
that  when  he  sings  of  "  One's-Self,  a  simple,  separate  person," 
in  the  next  line  he  utters  the  word  "  En-masse."  It  therefore 
surprised  me  somewhat  to  find  the  poet  characterized  as  "  anti-al- 
truistic." Having  the  master's  authority  for  distrusting  the  ac- 
counts of  his  friends,  I  have  endeavored  to  decide  for  myself  how 
far  such  a  dictum  is  justifiable,  claiming  a  like  distrust  for  any 
tentative  words  I  may  write. 

To  the  singer  of  the  universal  I  venture  to  think  there  are  few 
opportunities  for  applying  the  prefix  "  anti." 

"I  have  the  idea  of  all  and  am  all,  and  believe  in  all." 

"  (Have  I  forgotten  any  part?  anything  in  the  past? 
Come  to  me  whoever  and  whatever,  till  I  give  you  recognition.)  " 

All-inclusive,  embracing  and  summarizing  every  religion  and 
philosophy,  adopting  "  each  theory,  myth,  god  and  demi-god," 
recognizing  the  underlying  unity  of  all,  there  must  yet  be  some 
basis  for  the  conclusion  —  which  I  have  heard  expressed  on  more 
than  one  occasion  —  that  he  is  antagonistic  to  altruism.  The  fact 
which  has  given  birth  to  this  allegation  is,  I  opine,  as  before 
hinted,  his  grand  conception  of  personality.  We  have  become  so 
accustomed  to  reformers  who,  in  their  partisan  zeal  for  the  spe- 
cial little  "ism"  which  most  appeals  to  them, -see  everything 
outside  in  shadow  which  falls  densest  on  objects  immediately 
opposite,  that  we  are  unprepared  for  the  comprehensiveness  of 
the  all-encloser.  It  is  needless  to  cite  instances.  The  point  at 
issue  is  whether  it  is  not  rather  an  assumption  than  a  fact  that 
Whitman's  egoism  excludes  altruism. 


57 


Logically  and  obviously  egoism  precedes  altruism,  and,  like 
many  neglected  elementary  lessons,  needs  to  be  emphasized  in 
the  higher  education  which  is  to  result  in  a  sane,  self-directing 
unit.  It  is  true  also  that  a  study  of  philosophical  egoism  has  ma- 
terially enlarged  our  conception  of  its  scope,  and  possibly  a  defini- 
tion of  it  might  be  formulated  which  would  connote  consideration 
for  the  welfare  of  others.  But  this,  I  take  it,  is  outside  the  com- 
mon acceptation  of  the  term,  and  therefore  irrelevant  to  our 
present  purpose.  Similarly,  altruism  might,  and  probably  should, 
be  amplified  to  include  self-regarding  functions,  —  indeed,  it  is  so 
defined  by  eminent  authorities,  —  which  increases  the  difficulty 
of  the  anti-altruistic  postulate.  With  a  deepening  sense  of  the 
interrelatedness  of  life,  and  the  impossibility  of  isolating  ourselves 
from  our  fellows,  it  becomes  apparent  that  an  absolute  distinction 
is  untenable.  A  finely  adjusted  ethical  balance  demands  the  re- 
jection of  neither. 

If  we  proceed  to  interrogate  Whitman's  life  and  works  we  find 
much  in  the  former  that  is  altruistic  to  the  point  of  self-sacrifice 
—  notably,  the  tender  nursing  of  the  dear  camerados  in  the  war 
which  left  him  bankrupt  of  physical  health. 

"I  do  not  ask  the  wounded  person  how  he  feels,   I   myself  become  the 
wounded  person." 

Such  perfect  sympathy  is  rare. 

"If  you  become  degraded,  criminal,  ill,  then  I  become  so  for  your  sake." 
And  this,  to  the  poor  wounded  boy  whom  he  never  knew  : 

"  Yet  I  think  I  could  not  refuse  this  moment  to  die  for  you,  if  that  would 
save  you." 


58  ^Ijitman'fi!  3J&eal  EDemocraci? 

In  "  Leaves  of  Grass  "  the  non-egoistic  passages  are  numerous  : 

"  Behold,  I  do  not  give  lectures  or  a  little  charity  — 
When  I  give  I  give  myself." 

"I  will  scatter  myself  among  men  and  women  as  I  go, 
I  will  toss  a  new  gladness  and  roughness  among  them." 

"I  have  given  alms  to  every  one  that  ask'd,  stood  up  for  the  stupid  and 

crazy,  devoted  my  income  and  labor  to  others  .    .   . 

Claim' d  nothing  to  myself  which  I  have  not  carefully  claim' d  for  others 
on  the  same  terms." 

This  self-revealing  language  is  not  that  of  one  indifferent  to 
the  welfare  of  others.  It  expresses,  moreover,  no  mere  mental 
abstraction,  but  a  "  living  impulse,"  surely.  Every  page  pulsates 
with  the  warm  vitality  of  him  whose  "  spirit  has  passed  in  com- 
passion and  determination  round  the  whole  earth."  It  is  this 
fluidity,  this  radiation  of  love,  which  attracts  "  by  more  than  at- 
traction," and  is  potent  to  produce  the  great  magnetic  personality 
in  order  to  develop  which  he  exhorts  a  pupil  to  "  if  need  be  give 
up  all  else." 

Nay,  more.  Since  "  each  is  not  for  his  own  sake,"  he  deems 
even  self-denying  action  compatible  with  his  comprehensive  con- 
ception of  the  self-poised  ego.  Hence  he  tells  us  : 

"  All  the  world  have  I  given  up  for  my  dear  brothers'  and  sisters'  sake,  for 
the  soul's  sake." 

Congruently  with  this  personal  avowal,  he  extols 

"All  self-denial  that  stood  steady  and  aloof  on  wrecks,  and  saw  others  fill 

the  seats  of  the  boats, 

All  offering  of  substance  or  life  for  the  good  old  cause,  or  for  a  friend' s 
sake,  or  opinion's  sake." 


altruism  59 


And  likewise,  in  "  Passage  to  India  "  : 

"What  cheerful  willingness  for  others'  sake  to  give  up  all? 
For  others'  sake  to  suffer  all  ?'  * 

Corroborative  passages  might  be  multiplied.  The  equitable 
mind  of  the  poet  is  constantly  disinterestedly  regardful  of  others 

—  "as  if  it  were  not  indispensable  to  my  own  rights  that  others 
possess  the  same."  In  such  copious,  vivifying  utterances  there  is 
little  danger  of  being  betrayed  by  the  letter  and  losing  the  spirit, 
for  the.  latter  so  pervades  the  former  that  they  are  practically  dis- 
associable.    His  pages  contain  no  "empty  words." 

A  more  synthetical  survey  is  equally  convincing.  His  bound- 
less sympathy  and  fervid  joy  in  others  predominate.  Altruism  is 
a  predicable  consequence  of  deep  spiritual  insight  and  recognition 
of  the  subjectivity  of  God.  Yet,  let  it  be  noted,  it  is  altruism 
born  not  of  self-humiliation  and  self-depreciation,  but  of  self- 
esteem  and  self-reverence  —  the  fruition  of  the  democratic  spirit 

—  such  reverence  for  self  and  others  as  conduces  to  an  erect, 
hospitable  attitude  of  the  soul.    If  a  man  of  Whitman's  stature 
needs    labeling,  then  "  ego-altruistic  "  is,  I  submit,  more  apt. 
Egoism  and  altruism,  long  divorced,  are  reconciled  in  the  cosmic 
consciousness.    Gladly  I  welcome  their  reunion. 

Prominent  among  reconcilers  stands  Hegel,  whose  points  of 
contact  with  Whitman  it  is  interesting  to  trace  : 

"  The  way  to  self-realization  is  through  self-renunciation  — 
/'.  e.,  through  the  renunciation  of  that  natural  and  immediate  life 
of  the  self  which  is  opposed  to  the  not-self.  .  .  .  As  it  is  a  con- 
dition of  our  intellectual  life  that  we  exist  for  ourselves  only,  as 
other  things  and  beings  exist  for  us,  so  it  is  the  condition  of  our 


60  igljttman's?  31&*al  SDentocraci? 

practical  life  that  we  realize  ourselves  only  as  we  live  for  other 
ends  and  beings  than  ourselves.  .  .  .  For  it  is  only  in  break- 
ing down  the  boundary  that  separates  our  life  from  the  life  of 
others  that  we  can  at  the  same  time  break  down  the  boundary 
that  prevents  their  life  from  becoming  ours." 

Without  overestimating  the  importance  of  altruism  in  the  evo- 
lution of  character,  we  may  yet  note  that  the  ability  to  sacrifice 
for  the  good  of  others  has  been  one  of  the  invariable  equipments 
of  heroism.  It  is  the  necessity  of  this  ability  to  sacrifice,  and  the 
value,  incidentally,  of  its  results  to  the  individual,  that  are  en- 
forced in  the  "  Song  of  Prudence  "  : 

.   .   .    "That  the  young  man  who  composedly  peril' d  his  life  and  lost  it  has 

done  exceedingly  well  for  himself  without  doubt, 
That  he  who  never  peril' d  his  life,  but  retains  it  to  old  age  in  riches  and  ease, 

has  probably  achiev'd  nothing  for  himself  worth  mentioning." 

Biological  bases  for  both  egoism  and  altruism  are  not  wanting. 
The  promptings  of  self-interest  are  manifest  in  the  process  of 
nutrition,  and  the  surrender  of  love  is  apparent  in  parental  and 
sexual  relationships.  The  altruistic  element  in  nature,  erstwhile 
engulfed  in  the  evolutionist's  struggle-for-existence  principle,  has 
been  carefully  extricated  by  Kropotkin,  J.  Arthur  Thomson,  and 
others.  The  voluntary  mutual  aid  evolved  by  ants,  and  other  sub- 
human communities,  points  to  the  time  when  the  actions  of  men 
shall  become  spontaneously  mutual  —  when  men  shall  no  longer 
be  driven  in  the  paths  of  social  rectitude  at  the  point  of  the  bay- 
onet or  the  policeman's  baton. 

History,  however,  furnishes  countless  examples  of  the  undue 
exaltation  of  self-sacrifice,  till  it  becomes  an  end,  limiting  spirit- 
ual growth.  The  evils  of  the  excessive  fostering  of  the  self-ab- 


61 


negating  spirit,  uncounterbalanced  by  more  robust  ideals,  have 
been  amply  attested  by  the  religious  asceticism  which  this  century 
has,  happily,  mostly  outgrown,  and  by  the  artificial  types  of 
womanhood  and  extreme  differentiation  of  the  sexes  which  sur- 
vive at  the  present  time.  A  violent  rebound  is  the  natural  tend- 
ency. "  Up  to  a  certain  point,"  as  Spencer  puts  it,  "altruistic 
action  blesses  giver  and  receiver,  beyond  a  certain  point  it  curses 
giver  and  receiver."  To  avoid  confusion  of  thought  it  is  essen- 
tial to  discriminate  between  legitimate  altruism,  which  is  for  the 
good  of  all,  and  its  morbid  counterpart,  which  is  in  reality  a  dis- 
guised selfishness. 


fcergug  Organisation 

A]  a  result  of  the  development  of  the  individualistic  ideal,  it 
is  not  surprising  to  find  a  number  of  advanced  people 
whose  cardinal  virtue  is  that  they  do  not  "join  anything  "  ;  and 
the  propagandist  who  is  less  a  partisan  than  an  idealist  —  a  truth- 
seeker,  willing  to  revise  his  principles  continually  by  the  light  of 
accumulated  experience  —  is  compelled  to  pause  and  weigh  the 
advantages  of  organization  and  the  co-operative  methods  he  rec- 
ommends. The  disadvantages  have  been  glaringly  obvious  to 
many  minds,  and  the  contemplation  of  them  has  given  rise  to 
the  present  reaction.  The  domination  of  the  weak  by  the 
strong,  or  by  those  ambitious  of  power  ;  the  modification  of  in- 
dividual differences  in  conformity  with  a  stereotyped  "  constitu- 
tion " ;  the  tendency  to  mental  inertia,  the  society  becoming  a 
prop  instead  of  a  stimulus  to  self-reliance ;  the  possibility  of  pro- 
longed, half-hearted  adherence,  from  force  of  habit  or  difficulty 
of  secession; — these,  and  such  as  these,  are  serious  obstacles 
to  the  growth  of  individuality.  On  the  other  hand,  we  are  beset 
by  the  importunities  of  people  possessed  by  the  club  mania,  with 
an  exaggerated  estimate  of  the  strength  of  union  regardless  of 
compatibility,  who  feel  that  the  efforts  of  two  or  three,  "  gath- 
ered together,"  are  necessarily  a  blessing  to  the  world. 

Hence,  with  a  lively  sense  of  the  pros  and  cons,  we  press  for 
an  answer  to  the  question,  Why  should  one  join  anything  ?  Why 
should  not  one  concentrate  one's  efforts  on  the  enhancement  of 
the  brilliancy  of  one's  own  individual  light,  in  order  to  become 


31nDitnDualt0m  bertfusf  (^rganijatton      63 

"  a.  lantern  of  strength  to  men,"  separate  and  distinct,  and  irre- 
spective of  other  orbs  greater  or  less  ?  The  idea  appeals  to  me. 
With  Whitman,  I  shout,  "  Yourself,  yourself,  yourself,  forever 
and  ever  "  —  but  he  does  not  stop  there  ;  neither  do  I.  When  I 
come  to  consider  how  one  may  best  enhance  this  brilliancy,  I 
find  that  sympathy,  co-operation,  reciprocity,  fellowship,  solidar- 
ity, are  most  potent  aids,  that  thejndividual  self  and  the  social 
self  are  one  and  indivisible,  and  that  he  who  would  be  completely 
rounded  must  disown  neither.  In  organized  association  the  larger 
self  may  find  satisfaction  and  contribute  to  the  growth  of  the 
lesser  self.  It  has  been  maintained  that  self-development  and 
self-devotion  are  very  nearly  the  same  thing,  since  "  we  can  only 
develop  ourselves  by  devoting  ourselves  to  objective  ends " ; 
while  "  the  only  valuable  kind  of  self-denial  is  that  for  the  sake 
of  objective  interests,  by  devotion  to  which  we  are  developed." 
Thus,  it  may  be  inferred  that  individualism  and  organization  are 
not  inherently  antagonistic ;  by  deeper  analysis  the  reconciliation 
is  established,  and  they  take  their  places  side  by  side,  with  no  in- 
terposing "  versus  "  as  above. 

In  estimating  the  important  results  of  association,  its  value 
emotionally  and  in  the  evolution  of  sympathy  must  not  be  ig- 
nored. The  mere  "  intellectual  all-in-all "  gives  little  and  receives 
little.  Furthermore,  the  unrestricted  interchange  of  thought  is 
a  powerful  aid  to  the  attainment  of  definiteness  and  a  clearer 
conception  of  practical  possibilities.  The  more  extensive  the 
stores  of  experience  contributing  to  the  elucidation  of  life's  prob- 
lems the  better.  Definiteness  is  a  valuable  preliminary  to  strong 
concerted  action  when  the  opportune  moment  arrives.  Few  per- 
sons deny  the  need  of  reform,  but  with  endless  diversity  of 


64  ^Ijitman's!  3fl&ral 


method  the  process  is  painfully  slow.    Free  discussion  tends  to 
unanimity  in  essentials. 

The  prejudice  against  any  system  of  organized  effort  is  chiefly 
due  to  confusion  of  thought  in  regard  to  the  actual  source  of 
danger.  It  is  not  that  organization  is  in  itself  inimical  to  indi- 
vidual development  ;  it  is  only  so  when  it  takes  the  compulsory 
form.  The  voluntary  principle  in  organization  is  the  safeguard 
of  individual  liberty. 

Some  people  guard  their  freedom  so  jealously  that  they  love 
only  themselves.  Their  social  development  has  not  kept  pace 
with  their  personal  development.  "  To  walk  free  and  own  no 
superior  "  is  a  brave  ideal,  but  not  to  be  misapplied  into  the  repu- 
diation of  equals.  The  basic  difficulty  which  has  been  lost  sight 
of  in  recent  periods  of  reaction  (first,  in  the  reaction  from  the 
extreme  of  self-seeking  and  greed,  and  next,  in  the  reaction 
from  the  extreme  of  majority  control  and  state  regulation)  is  the 
maintenance  of  a  just  balance  between  egoism  and  altruism,  be- 
tween the  centripetal  and  centrifugal,  between  isolation  and  fu- 
sion, between  identity  and  totality.  We  see  things  one  at  a 
time,  and  thus  the  two-sidedness  of  the  laws  of  being  eludes  us. 

Intense  individualism,  expressing  itself  in  the  passionate  yearn- 
ing for  freedom,  is  not  adventitious  in  origin.  External  freedom 
symbolizes  the  freedom  of  the  soul.  The  soul  of  man  defies  co- 
ercion and  brooks  no  artificial  limits  to  the  experience  which  its 
evolution  demands.  Of  equally  profound  import  is  the  social 
passion  so  powerfully  manifesting  itself  to-day  in  the  most  varied 
forms.  It  is  based  on  the  essential  oneness  of  all  life,  which 
makes  brotherhood  not  a  mere  sentiment,  but  an  inherent  fact, 
pointing  to  ultimate  harmony. 


31nOtUtt)uaU0m  urrsus  Organisation       55 

Contributing  both  to  individual  and  collective  ends,  social  ef- 
fort becomes, somewhat  as  love  is,  its  own  justification."  It  is  an 
expressible  delight  to  "  throb  with  currents  of  attempt,"  heed- 
less of  results.  But  let  it  not  be  forgotten  that  the  importance 
to  the  evolution  of  the  unit  of  non-interference  in  personal  con- 
cerns is  a  primary  lesson  in  sociology.  The  cause  of  freedom 
suffers  if  any  individual  be  restrained  against  his  will,  on  any 
pretext. 

The  remedy  for  organization  in  which  the  old  coercive  spirit 
still  lingers  is  to  be  found  in  association  so  infused  with  the  free 

O 

spirit  that  opinions  of  assent  and  dissent  are  treated  with  equal 
respect,  in  which  individual  variation  and  unconventionality  in 
word  and  act  meet  with  frank,  unreserved  welcome. 


Sfngemritieg  of  (Economic  argument 

OPEN  warfare  may  give  place  to  covert  attack,  but  progress 
turns  not  aside  from  its  appointed  course.  The  "  athletic 
democracy,"  the  sworn  allies,  fighting  in  behalf  of  the  "  stern, 
remorseless,  sweet  idea,"  scarce  pause  to  heed  the  shafts  of  their 
assailants.  Yet  the  ephemeral  expedients  adopted  in  defence  of 
the  established  social  order  in  various  crises  of  history  are  not 
devoid  of  psychological  and  sociological  interest.  Monuments  of 
ingenuity  as  they  often  are,  though  fashioned  in  perishable  clay, 
it  may  occasionally  be  worth  while  to  give  them  more  durable 
form,  if  not  in  the  public  square,  where  perhaps  they  may  offend 
the  sensibilities  of  the  enlightened,  in  archives  and  museums,  as 
material  for  future  archaeologists  and  historians. 

It  is  in  the  realm  of  economics  that  the  cleverest  arguments 
are  to  be  found.  Old  sophistries  are  slain  and  new  ones  are  in- 
voked to  support  the  structure  venerated  by  many  as  the  temple 
of  financial  prosperity.  President  Eliot's  exaltation  of  the  "  scab  " 
as  a  "  creditable  type  of  nineteenth-century  hero  "  is  novel.  It 
is  claimed  for  the  scab  that  "  in  defence  of  his  rights  as  an  indi- 
vidual he  deliberately  incurs  the  reprobation  of  his  fellows,  and 
runs  the  immediate  risk  of  bodily  injury  or  even  death,"  and 
that  "  in  so  doing  he  displays  remarkable  courage  and  renders  a 
great  service  to  his  fellowmen."  This  view  must  surprise  many 
good  trades-unionists,  and  I  doubt  if  it  ever  occurred  to  the  scab 
himself.  It  is  one  of  those  specious  conclusions,  not  born  of  ex- 
perience, which  issue  from  the  heated  atmosphere  of  the  study, 
to  perish  in  the  first  contact  with  the  life-current  outside.  The 


^Ingenuities  of  economic  Argument      67 

typical  scab,  I  take  it,  is  actuated  by  very  ordinary  unheroic  self- 
interest.  If  he  has  conscientious  objections  to  trades-unionism, 
that  fact  is  incidental  and  not  the  motive  which  prompts  his  action. 
Were  it  otherwise  there  would  be  instances  on  record  of  men 
abandoning  lucrative  positions  in  order  to  become  scabs.  As  a 
rule  he  is  not  deliberately  obeying  the  behests  of  a  principle  of 
resistance  to  trades-union  tyranny.  Up  to  the  time  of  his  back- 
sliding he  has  perhaps  been  a  good  trades-union  member,  but, 
lacking  in  class  consciousness,  with  will  too  weak  to  stand  the 
crucial  test,  he  succumbs,  terrified  lest  the  wolf,  never  far  off, 
now  cross  his  threshold.  If  he  is  an  outsider  he  is  possibly 
ignorant  of  the  merits  of  the  dispute  and  not  disposed  to  allow 
considerations  of  equity  to  weigh  with  him.  When  President 
Eliot,  in  his  zeal  to  do  honor  to  his  newly  discovered  hero,  fur- 
ther maintains  that  he  "  risks  his  livelihood  for  the  future  and 
thereby  the  well-being  of  his  family,"  the  bewilderment  increases. 
The  trades-union  leaders  risk  their  livelihood  for  the  future.  The 
scab  is  either  an  employee  reluctant  to  sacrifice  his  wages  and  to 
incur  the  possible  consequences  of  his  employer's  vindictiveness, 
or  he  is  out  of  work  and  glad  of  any  opportunity  to  earn  some- 
thing. In  the  former  case  a  not  unusual  inducement  is  the  pos- 
sibility of  promotion ;  in  either  case  the  favor  and  protection  of 
the  employer  can  often  be  counted  upon  as  an  aid  to  the  afore- 
said "  remarkable  courage." 

Heroism  does  not  consist  in  indifference  to  scoffs  and  obloquy, 
though  it  may  include  this.  The  heroic  act  is  "  clean  contrary 
to  a  sensual  prosperity  "  and  "  measures  itself  by  its  contempt  of 
some  external  good."  The  action  of  the  scab  cannot  be  thus  de- 
fined, for  it  is  the  "  external  good  "  which  he  seeks  for  himself. 


68  ^tyitman'st  2fl&eal  Democracy 

The  courage  to  withstand  the  jeers  and  censure  of  his  associates 
is  counterbalanced  by  the  cowardice  which  refuses  to  risk  imme- 
diate personal  gain  for  prospective  benefits  to  be  shared  with  his 
fellow  workers. 

There  is  much  to  be  urged  against  trades-union  tyranny,  but 
many  people  fail  to  realize  that  the  present  alternative  to  majority 
rule  is  autocracy,  and  that  freedom  is  impossible  under  the  wage 
system.  The  organization  of  labor  is  an  attempt  to  enable  the 
employee  to  treat  with  the  employer  on  more  nearly  equal  terms, 
and  the  effectiveness  of  trades-union  methods  is  dependent  upon 
the  unanimity  of  the  support  they  receive.  The  strike  is  the  bar- 
baric sword  which  universal  love  will  one  day  turn  into  a  plow- 
share. It  is  a  clumsy  weapon  at  best,  but  it  is  "  Hobson's  choice." 
When  labor  is  emancipated, "  when  the  slave  ceases  and  the  mas- 
ter of  slaves  ceases,"  when  we  begin  to  have  an  inkling  of  the 
meaning  of  brotherhood,  then  all  reason  for  defensive  and  aggres- 
sive tactics  is  gone.  It  is  necessary  to  coerce  the  criminal  into 
respect  for  the  liberty  of  his  fellows.  On  the  same  principle  the 
anti-social  tendencies  of  the  wage-earner  must  be  checked  for  the 
welfare  of  the  community.  It  is  the  method,  not  the  end,  in  either 
case  which  is  open  to  question.  The  courage  of  the  burglar  and 
of  the  scab  is  closely  allied.  Both  are  the  victims  of  a  social  sys- 
tem based  upon  inequality  of  opportunity,  avarice,  and  self-seek- 
ing- 

A  German  writer,  Dr.  Friedrich  Kleinwachter,  discussing  "  das 

Einkommen,"  has  recently  vindicated  profits  very  neatly  by  show- 
ing that  they  arise  "  from  the  ability  to  foresee  and  avoid  dangers 
and  risks  which  the  average  man  has  not  the  courage  to  face  nor 
the  skill  to  avoid."  To  such  a  statement  an  exclamation-point 


^Ingenuities  of  (Economic  Argument      69 

is  perhaps  an  adequate  reply.  With  the  division  of  labor  carried 
to  such  an  extreme  that  a  man  may  spend  his  life  in  a  ceaseless 
repetition  of  some  detail  in  mechanism,  ability  has  little  oppor- 
tunity to  develop.  The  conditions  likewise  have  been  unfavor- 
able to  the  promotion  of  resourcefulness  and  administrative  skill. 
The  monotony,  the  dullness,  the  joylessness  of  his  task  have  con- 
verted the  human  craftsman  into  a  machine.  Nevertheless,  the 
ability  and  the  creative  power  lie  latent  in  the  automaton,  biding 
their  time.  It  is  a  common  subterfuge,  as  Mazzini  has  pointed 
out,  for  the  exploiter  to  seek  justification  "  by  appealing  to  a  fact 
of  his  own  creation."  Still,  despite  all  the  disadvantages  suffered 
by  the  toiler,  the  plutocrat  has  yet  to  establish  his  claim  to  supe- 
riority. Some  of  us  who  hold  no  brief  for  the  profit  system  have 
watched  in  silent  marvel  the  dexterity,  the  delicacy  of  manipula- 
tion, the  promptness  and  precision,  the  nicety  of  calculation,  the 
concentration,  manifested  in  their  work  by  many  among  the  sons 
of  toil,  and  the  comparison  with  the  sons  of  wealth  —  enjoyers 
of  that  which  they  are  incapable  of  producing  —  has  risen  invol- 
untarily to  our  minds,  till  the  latter,  notwithstanding  external  pol- 
ish and  acquisitions,  seem  puerile  and  dwarfed  and  disproportioned, 
and  the  former  the  true  potentates.  The  artisan,  the  navvy,  the 
sailor,  place  themselves  unflinchingly  in  positions  that  call  for 
daily  exhibitions  of  courage,  and  men  of  such  sterling  type  may 
well  regard  with  contempt  the  empty  taunts  and  assumptions  of 
kid-glove  braves.  Age  after  age  witnesses  potential  Christs  bear- 
ing crosses  to  crucifixions  to  which  man  will  one  day  turn  with 
quickened  sympathies  and  purified  will. 

Many  earnest  progressive  people  stumble  over  the  "  risks  "  of 
capital.   They  contend  that  as  the  risks  are  assumed  exclusively 


7o 


by  the  capitalist  he  is  entitled  to  the  exorbitant  remuneration 
which  he  exacts.  Those  who  take  this  stand  are  apparently  un- 
aware of  the  daily  risks  of  the  wage-earner.  It  would  seem  that 
in  some  directions  the  education  of  the  u  poor  rich  "  has  been 
sadly  neglected.  Let  us  compare  these  risks.  The  employer  is 
dependent  for  success  upon  the  market,  upon  his  wisdom  in  the 
choice  of  supervisors,  his  reputation,  shrewdness,  etc.,  and  when 
he  is  unfortunate  in  these  respects  he  risks  the  reduction  of  his 
share  of  the  profits  from,  say,  sixteen  times  that  of  his  employees 
to  six  times  (the  figures  are  unimportant  for  our  present  purpose). 
The  worst  that  can  befall  him  is  insolvency.  The  employee  runs 
the  risk  of  being  discharged  at  any  moment  on  various  pretexts  : 
fluctuations  in  the  demand  for  labor,  changes  in  fashion,  the  in- 
troduction of  new  methods  or  machinery,  the  caprice  of  a  foreman, 
and,  more  rarely,  his  own  incompetency  or  intractability. 

In  view  of  these  considerations  and  others  that  might  be  cited, 
it  needs  no  statistics  to  prove  that  the  average  employee  is  in 
more  frequent  danger  of  being  out  of  employment  than  is  the 
average  employer  of  being  insolvent.  Furthermore,  when  such 
calamity  falls  to  either  the  power  of  recuperation  is  considerably 
greater  in  the  one  case  than  in  the  other.  The  capitalist  usually 
has  wealthy  and  influential  connections  who  can  help  him  finan- 
cially or  with  "  influence  "  either  to  regain  his  position  or  to  en- 
ter another  field  in  which  technical  knowledge  is  not  required. 
If  he  has  sprung  from  the  moneyed  classes  he  has  probably  had 
the  benefit  of  superior  education  and  greater  leisure  for  culture, 
which  are  valuable  equipments  in  making  a  fresh  start  ;  though 
it  is  but  fair  to  admit  that  he  may  suffer  acutely  from  false  pride 
and  an  ingenuous  desire  to  keep  up  appearances.  The  wage-earner 


^Ingenuities  of  economic  Argument      7! 

has  friends  as  helpless  as  himself.  He  may  have  devoted  his  life 
to  the  acquirement  of  facility  in  production  in  one  branch  of  his 
trade,  and  one  only.  He  has  had  little  leisure  for  the  develop- 
ment of  his  brain,  has  perhaps  been  ill-born,  illr-paid,  and  ill-nour- 
ished mentally  and  physically.  Among  the  anxieties  of  the  wage- 
earner,  sickness  is  one  of  the  most  appalling.  To  him  this  means 
the  cessation  of  his  wages  and  destitution  for  those  dependent 
upon  him.  The  income  of  the  capitalist,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
oftentimes  unaffected  to  any  great  degree  by  his  absence  from 
business. 

Usually  such  reasoning  as  I  have  quoted  above  is  so  insidiously 
intertwined  with  truths  or  half-truths  that,  when  presented  with 
benevolent  intent,  it  obtains  credence  with  and  captivates  the 
judgment  of  those  whose  experience  it  transcends  and  who,  like 
its  originators,  wish  to  believe  it.  It  is  a  result  of  looking  at  the 
world,  not  as  an  harmonious  whole,  but  as  a  chaotic  conglomer- 
ation of  opposing  factions  with  diverse  interests  and  destinies. 
Nothing  demonstrates  more  forcibly  how  far  we  are  at  present 
from  the  apprehension  of  equality.  The  complacency  with  which 
we  accept  the  blessings  of  our  heaven  of  limited  dimensions  is 
only  equalled  by  our  indifference  to  the  curse  which  it  entails  on 
all  in  the  vast  hell  without.  The  old  hymn, 

"  Not  more  than  others  I  deserve, 
Yet  God  has  given  me  more," 

summarizes  the  common  conception  of  divine  justice.  The  trend 
of  public  opinion,  backed  by  the  orthodox  economics,  has,  of 
course,  utterly  confused  the  general  intelligence  in  regard  to  the 
distinction  between  the  indebtedness  of  society  to  the  non-pro- 


72  ^^itman'sf  3fl&eal  Democracy 


ductive  capitalist  for  the  use  of  his  capital,  and  to  the  non-capi- 
talist productive  classes  for  the  various  services  rendered  by  them. 
Yet  it  would  seem  that  no  amount  of  legal  or  scholastic  support 
could  perpetuate  the  social  chaos  which  we  dignify  with  the  name 
of  civilization,  and  the  serfdom  which  we  countenance  under  the 
banner  of  freedom.  If  our  eyes  were  not  dazzled  by  the  glitter 
of  gold,  and  our  ears  deafened  by  the  cries  of  false  prophets,  we 
should  surely  discern  the  simple  underlying  unity  of  life  and 
should  co-operate  with  nature  toward  the  fruition. 

When  the  ship  is  riddled  with  holes,  it  were  wiser  to  take  to 
the  boats  than  to  catch  at  straws. 


Last  ^>tan&  against  ^emocrac?  in 

THE  love  of  pictorial  fame  will  perhaps  be  the  last  strong- 
hold to  yield  to  the  increasingly  urgent  demand  for  democ- 
racy in  sex.  It  may  be  that  the  desire  for  admiration  has  its  place 
in  certain  stages  of  development,  but  the  desire  to  win  it  not  by 
distinction  of  character  but  by  extrinsic  adornment  has  long  been 
an  insidious  impediment  to  progress.  Well  might  Whitman,  in 
his  consideration  of  the  materialistic  advancement  of  the  United 
States  and  his  searching  diagnosis  of  the  failure  of  New  World 
democracy  "  in  its  social  aspects  and  in  really  grand  religious, 
moral,  literary,  and  esthetic  results,"  lay  heavy  stress  on  "  the 
entire  redemption  of  woman  out  of  these  incredible  holds  and 
webs  of  silliness,  millinery,  and  every  kind  of  dyspeptic  deple- 
tion "  as  a  factor  of  primary  importance  in  the  new  sociology. 

Physiologists,  rational-dress  reformers,  and  Audubon  societies 
have  done  good  service  in  calling  attention  to  the  more  flagrant 
violations  of  the  laws  of  health  and  humanity  —  sometimes  they 
have  done  more  than  this ;  nevertheless  the  pictorial  ideal  main- 
tains its  hold.  True,  the  number  of  women  is  decreasing  who 
may  be  described  as 

"  Unhappy  statuettes  and  miserable  trinkets, 

Poor  alabaster  chimney-piece  ornaments  under  glass  cases," 

but  they  may  still  sacrifice  dignity,  concentrative  power,  comfort, 
leisure,  culture,  art,  beauty,  individuality,  on  this  altar  of  fashion, 
and  society  applauds.  Specialists  ardent  for  emancipation  dismiss 
these  facts  and  focus  their  energies  on  the  removal  of  the  par- 


74  ^tiittttan'tf  31&eal 


ticular  grievances  that  appeal  to  them.  They  do  not  remember 
that  "  it  is  not  what  is  done  to  us  but  what  is  made  of  us  that 
wrongs  us."  They  confess  their  fear  of  imperiling  the  reform 
they  have  at  heart  if  they  attack  the  popular  idols.  Higher  edu- 
cation, the  franchise,  economic  independence,  —  these  will  bring 
about  the  millennium  of  freedom  and  equality.  What  are  the 
results  of  this  indifference  ?  The  perpetuation  of  the  ideal  of 
subserviency  in  which  women  are  regarded  as  adjuncts,  objects 
of  use  or  pleasure,  or  both.  Thus  woman  appeals  primarily  to 
the  body  of  man,  not  to  his  soul. 

The  degradation  has  penetrated  deep.  Witness  such  para- 
graphs as  the  following,  in  a  daily  of  such  repute  as  the  Boston 
Herald: 

"As  usual,  lovely  woman  and  her  clothes  are  receiving  more 
attention  at  Madison  Square  Garden  than  the  finest  horses.  Even 
the  men  admit  it.  Considering  this  to  be  the  case,  why  not  cre- 
ate a  diversion  in  what  is  a  rather  hackneyed  show,  and  award 
the  blue  ribbon  or  a  4  highly  commended  '  to  the  best-dressed 
and  the  smartest  woman  ?  Trot  her  out  on  the  tanbark,  and 
let  's  see  who  does  the  greatest  credit  to  her  dressmaker." 

And  this,  in  the  same  column  :  "  O  fickle  loveliness  !  Tired  al- 
ready of  the  4  blouse  effect  '  ?  "  Similar  things  are  printed  time 
and  again,  and  no  one  thinks  of  resenting  them.  Why  do  not 
the  women  suffragists  and  sex  reformers  make  a  decided  stand 
against  this  continual  posing,  this  craving  for  spectacular  effect  ? 

The  mighty  "  they  say"  awes  even  the  enlightened.  Absurd- 
ities devised  for  the  beguilement  of  idle  hands  and  the  diversion 
of  empty  brains  tempt  busy  hands  to  embarrass  themselves  with 
needless  tasks  and  pervert  the  judgment  of  well-equipped  intel- 


&gain$t  Democracy  in  ^ejr  75 

lects.  The  endless  waste  of  human  labor  is  appalling.  Con- 
formity necessitates  either  dependence  or  slavery  —  dependence 
upon  the  labor  of  others  where  pecuniary  resources  are  unlim- 
ited, or  slavery  for  the  individual,  combined  with  gratuitous  anx- 
ieties, where  economy  rules.  What  is  admirable  to-day  is  con- 
temptible to-morrow.  Let  no  one  personally  guiltless  of  these 
sins  think  he  can  withdraw  himself  from  the  ignominy.  What- 
ever degrades  one  member  of  a  sex  degrades  all,  and  an  insult 
offered  to  one  sex  is  an  insult  to  both. 

Men  are  not  only  sufferers  from  these  toy  ideals ;  they  are 
also  offenders.  Their  love  of  ostentation  and  sense  of  what  is 
due  to  their  self-importance  often  cause  them  to  demand  in  the 
dress  of  wives  and  sisters  an  exhibit  of  financial  prosperity.  At 
the  summer  resorts,  or  in  any  form  of  outdoor  recreation,  the 
gulf  between  the  interests  of  men  and  women  is  painfully  ap- 
parent. The  men  find  strenuous,  adventurous,  health-giving  en- 
joyment in  all  weathers,  but  the  women  have  to  consider  whether 
the  possible  damage  to  their  wardrobe  makes  it  worth  while  to 
quit  the  safe  alternative  of  the  rocking-chair  and  novel.  Gen- 
uine comradeship  is  possible  only  when  the  man  becomes  effem- 
inate or  when  the  woman  to  some  extent  rationalizes  her  cos- 
tume. Draperies  that  incapacitate  for  practical  work  might,  if 
fitness  were  the  standard,  be  reserved  for  occasions  of  festivity, 
where  they  would  enhance  the  gaiety  and  need  not  be  restricted 
to  one  sex. 

Concentration  on  the  external  naturally  breeds  neglect  of  the 
body.  Hence  the  shame  of  the  physical,  parent  of  grave  ethical 
disaster.  Even  in  a  woman's  gymnasium,  where  some  apprecia- 
tion of  the  dignity  of  the  body  might  be  expected,  the  rule  for 


76 


restricting  the  wearing  of  the  gymnasium  suit  to  one  part  of  the 
building  is  enforced  without  protest,  lest  profane  eyes  behold  the 
human  form  in  garments  so  eminently  sensible  and  decent  and 
suited  to  the  requirements  of  free  and  graceful  motion. 

The  conventional  poison  is  imbibed  very  young.  Juvenile 
critics  manifest  their  lofty  disapproval  of  any  deviation  from  the 
authorized  width  or  pointedness  of  shoes,  or  the  regulation  length 
of  skirts,  while  the  fondness  for  inartistic  artificial  floral  adorn- 
ment and  for  decorations  derived  from  the  plumage  of  slaughtered 
birds  is  equally  precocious.  Paper  dolls,  modeled  upon  the  latest 
matured  atrocities  in  style,  contribute  to  the  vitiation  of  the  form 
and  color  sense,  and  prepare  the  young  students  to  graduate  in 
due  season  as  "  animated  clothes-pegs."  Thereafter  the  milliner 
and  dressmaker,  experts  in  the  technique  of  their  trade,  but,  with 
rare  exceptions,  without  a  knowledge  of  the  first  principles  of 
art,  wield  absolute  sway  on  matters  in  which  such  knowledge 
should  be  indispensable.  The  eye  has  adapted  itself  to  meretri- 
cious design.  For  head-gear  the  most  heterogeneous  and  tawdry 
masses  of  material  are  held  up  for  admiration.  A  minority  with 
some  natural  feeling  for  form  and  color  and  fitness  are  vaguely 
dissatisfied  but  helpless,  and  so  the  divorce  between  art  and  life 
is  perpetuated.  Everywhere  the  same  depressing  uniformity,  or 
attempt  at  uniformity.  Even  the  immigrants  hasten  Jo  discard 
their  picturesque  national  costumes  for  the  prevailing  mode.  Thus 
a  legitimate  source  of  joy  is  eliminated  from  the  streets  and  from 
places  of  public  assembly. 

The  evidences  of  the  power  of  fashion  and  the  devotion  of 
its  votaries,  after  all,  but  express  pathetic  aberrations  of  the  love 
of  the  beautiful  which  will  dethrone  the  usurper  and  transform 


n    >tf  77 


the  world.  These  blind  gropings  are  prophecies.  Something 
beautiful  is  evolved  now  and  then  by  accident,  and  wins  deserved 
but  unintelligent  admiration.  Novelty  is  sought  because  it  is  mis- 
taken for  beauty.  No  one  who  has  once  looked  with  appreciation 
on  a  group  of  artists  in  Liberty  woolens,  in  art  colors,  simply 
made,  gracefully  following  the  lines  of  the  figure,  could  ever  again 
fall  into  this  error  ;  and  perhaps  no  one  who  has  not  had  the 
advantage  of  some  similar  basis  of  comparison  can  realize  what 
we  lose  by  submission  to  the  ancient  tyranny. 


in 

THE  telegraphic  report  of  Ingersoll's  address  before  the 
Militant  Church  congregation,  Chicago,  contains  the  fol- 
lowing passage : 

"  I  make  a  difference  between  granting  divorce  to  a  man  and 
to  a  woman,  and  for  this  reason  :  a  woman  dowers  her  husband 
with  her  youth  and  beauty.  He  should  not  be  allowed  to  desert 
her  because  she  has  grown  wrinkled  and  old.  Her  capital  is  gone, 
her  prospects  in  life  lessened,  while,  on  the  contrary,  he  may  be 
far  better  able  to  succeed  than  when  he  married  her.  As  a  rule, 
the  man  can  take  care  of  himself,  and,  as  a  rule,  {he  woman  needs 
help.  So  I  would  not  allow  him  to  cast  her  off,  unless  she  had 
flagrantly  violated  the  contract.  But  for  the  sake  of  the  commu- 
nity, and  especially  for  the  sake  of  the  babes,  I  would  give  her  a 
divorce  for  the  asking." 

Such  obvious  generosity  of  motive  tends  to  disarm  criticism. 
It  behooves  those  who  have  wrestled  long  with  privilege,  and 
finally  driven  him  from  their  midst  with  heavy  scourges  of  igno- 
miny, to  be  on  the  alert  for  his  reappearance  under  a  new  guise. 

Vices  do  not  become  virtues  by  transplantation.  I  find  myself 
as  ready  to  resent  special  favors  and  immunities  for  women  as  for 
men,  just  as  I  resent  the  theory  that,  in  its  rebound  from  the  old 
idea  of  inferiority  and  subordination,  places  woman  on  a  pedestal, 
proffering  vain  adulation.  The  underlying  principle  in  each  is  a 
violation  of  the  law  of  equality  and  is  a  snare.  The  privileges  are 
a  mirage  concealing  an  abyss ;  the  adulation  is  rarely  sincere,  is 
partial,  and  not  preclusive  of  demands  for  menial  service. 


3|nequalit£   in  EDttoorce  79 

Truly  the  laws  are  far  from  embodying  our  ideals,  and  it  may 
be  claimed  that  to  give  women  the  advantage  in  this  respect  is 
the  most  equitable  and  only  practicable  course  under  existing  con- 
ditions. But  the  supposed  necessity  arises  from  economic  condi- 
tions that  are  rapidly  disappearing,  and  from  effete  customs  that 
such  concessions  as  that  proposed  by  Ingersoll  will  aid  in  perpet- 
uating. We  long  submit  to  regulations  that  have  outlived  their 
beneficence.  Agitation  for  legislative  reform  should  not  lag  far 
behind  the  advance-guard  of  thought.  The  more  space  the  en- 
actment leaves  for  the  growth  of  ideal  the  better;  with  the  utmost 
elasticity  the  limit  will  only  endure  for  a  season.  Unless  it  has 
seriously  enfeebled  the  social  organism,  when  at  length  it  is  burst 
asunder  it  will  not  need  to  be  replaced,  and  the  allegiance  accorded 
to  the  ancient,  uncouth  good  may  be  transferred  to  the  new-found, 
indwelling  truth.  The  god  without  yields  precedence  to  the  god 
within. 

To  many,  however,  the  statute-book  is  a  teacher ;  public  opin- 
ion, a  priest.  No  more  immoral  lesson  could,  from  my  point  of 
view,  be  promulgated  than  the  suggestion  that  it  is  righteous  to 
retain  by  legal  bonds  the  person  of  another  whose  spirit  has  be- 
come alien.  To  the  developed  woman  it  would  be  an  intolerable 
spiritual  degradation  for  material  ends. 

The  circumstances  that  have  enlisted  such  valiant  champion- 
ship are  presumably  those  in  which,  the  woman  having  sacrificed 
her  body,  the  law  may  legitimately  come  to  the  rescue  and  secure 
to  her  maintenance  and  care  during  incapacity  and  sickness.  Her 
health  and  material  comfort,  however  —  considering  the  matter 
on  the  lowest  plane  —  will  be  ill-attained  by  condemning  her  to 
the  unwilling  companionship  of  an  uncongenial  temperament,  or 


so  ^Ijttman's  ^fjueal  SE>etnocrac^ 

by  making  her  dependent  on  grudgingly  bestowed  support.  In 
such  situations  the  only  appeal  is  to  the  moral  conscientiousness 
of  the  husband  and  to  his  sense  of  responsibility  for  voluntarily 
incurred  obligations.  Public  opinion  may  further  aid  in  stimula- 
ting him  to  disinterested  action.  Failing  this,  the  law  is  impotent. 
By  a  noble  impulse,  spontaneous  or  suggested,  another's  interest 
may  be  subserved,  and  good  may  accrue  therefrom.  The  enforced 
exaction  is  barren  and  worthless.  The  right  adjustment  of  differ- 
ences cannot  fail  to  follow  naturally  the  awakening  of  inborn 
justice  and  generosity  consequent  upon  the  weakening  of  external 
authority. 

With  the  diffusion  of  more  enlightened  ideals  of  sex  relation- 
ships a  rapid  decrease  in  the  recurrence  of  such  unhappy  cases 
may  be  predicted.  In  taking  it  for  granted  that  the  woman,  as  a 
rule  "  needs  help,"  Ingersoll  must  surely  have  mistaken  the  frail 
exotic  for  the  normal  type  after  the  manner  of  those  who  clas- 
sify women  as  invalids  (see  "  Man  and  Woman,"  Havelock  Ellis, 
pp.  246  f.),  when  a  more  searching  glance  might  have  revealed  to 
him  in  outline  the  coming  generations  of  reverent,  sane  livers  — 
radiant  in  health,  "strong,  well  equipped  in  muscle  and  skill," 
self-owning  and  self-dependent.  It  is  not  surprising  that  he  should 
have  been  betrayed  into  hasty  generalization,  for  the  forced  arti- 
ficial product  has  well-nigh  crowded  out  the  native  growth,  and 
at  times  has  threatened  to  exterminate  it.  Never  extinct,  it  sur- 
vives, by  a  singular  misuse  of  terms,  in  the  so-called  New  Woman, 
and  has  its  imitators  in  another  abnormal  type,  more  correctly 
termed  "  new,"  which  can  boast  of  nothing  more  than  a  super- 
ficial resemblance  to  the  model  which  it  parodies.  We  are  accus- 
tomed to  numerous  pathological  deviations  from  the  normal  in 


]finrquaUt£   in  2E>tboree  81 

both  sexes,  but  we  have  hitherto  avoided  the  absurdity  of  basing 
legislation  for  the  entire  community  on  the  requirements  of  our 
hospital  population,  and  should  probably  continue  to  avoid  doing 
so  even  if  the  relative  proportions  were  reversed. 

"  Youth  and  beauty  "  will  not  be  the  "capital"  of  the  econom- 
ically freed  woman.  I  am  unfamiliar  with  Ingersoll's  economic 
views,  and  therefore  in  protesting  against  his  assignment  of  a  com- 
mercial value  to  attractiveness  of  outward  form,  and  the  assump- 
tion that  a  woman's  "  prospects  in  life  "  are  dependent  on  this,  I 
must  disclaim  any  attempt  to  interpret  him  or  to  criticise  his 
prevalent  attitude.  Of  course,  from  such  meagre  data,  I  may  have 
unwittingly  travestied  his  position.  The  passage,  however,  as  it 
stands,  is  repellent  both  in  sentiment  and  expression,  and  unless 
amplified  or  amended  must  be  taken  as  reported.  The  paragraph 
preceding  the  one  quoted,  to  which  I  take  no  exception,  shows 
that,  in  some  respects  at  least,  he  has  realized  the  fundamental 
essentials  of  the  problem.  His  present  attitude  is  probably  an  in- 
stance of  the  persistence  of  a  feeling  which  has  been  fostered  in 
the  race  for  centuries,  and  has  at  length  become  organic,  and 
which,  however  contrary  to  the  judgment,  cannot  be  suddenly 
eliminated.  Similar  survivals  of  sentiment  are  continually  con- 
flicting with  new  ideals  of  womanhood.  Like  the  solicitude  of 
the  too-indulgent  parent,  such  paternalism  is  a  mistaken  kindness 
which  the  full-grown  woman  must  be  strong  to  resist.  Freedom 
and  inequality  seldom  fraternize. 

Ordinarily  the  opponents  of  divorce  are  haunted  by  a  vague 
dread  of  impending  social  chaos  in  the  event  of  any  commutation 
of  what  Edward  Carpenter  terms  the  "  life-sentence."  They 
would  preserve  the  sanctity  of  the  home  by  a  profanation  of  love. 


SDemocraci? 


Ingersoll  has  too  just  an  appreciation  of  the  value  of  freedom  to 
fall  into  this  error,  and  too  practical  a  mind  to  ignore  the  conse- 
quences of  such  a  fallacy  on  the  offspring  of  the  coerced  ;  but 
that  does  not  prevent  his  countenancing  a  relationship  still  more 
dishonoring  to  women.  With  the  best  intentions,  he  would  have 
them  sell  their  birthright  for  the  merest  mess  of  pottage.  Not 
thus,  O  women,  will  you  gain  freedom  !  Everything  has  its  price, 
but  here  the  cost  has  been  estimated  too  highly.  The  petty  ad- 
vantages to  be  given  in  exchange  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared 
to  the  joys  attainable  by  the  untrammeled,  self-poised  soul.  Let 
our  faith  in  freedom  be  above  doubt.  Our  timid  little  concessions 
to  expediency  trail  it  in  the  dust.  We  do  not  give  it  a  chance  to 
soar  aloft  where  it  may  command  the  homage  of  upward-striving 
humanity. 

Being  as  yet  mastered  by  and  not  the  masters  of  our  instru- 
ments, our  efforts  are  fraught  with  pain.  In  marriage,  as  else- 
where, mistakes  involve  suffering.  But  this  fact  is  inherent  and 
beyond  our  power  to  circumvent.  Artifice  will  not  avail.  It  is  im- 
portant to  note,  however,  that  the  inevitable  suffering  is  greatly 
aggravated  by  the  domination  of  false  ideals,  and  that  it  will  not 
be  lessened  by  external  pressure.  What  was  stated  above,  with 
regard  to  the  effects  of  enforced  companionship  on  material  com- 
fort, applies  with  infinitely  greater  force  to  mental  and  spiritual 
well-being.  The  point  which  Ingersoll  seems  sometimes  to  miss 
is  the  one  permanent  factor,  —  the  value  of  the  results  of  experi- 
ence to  the  individual.  At  some  stages  of  growth  the  soul  can 
only  evolve  through  suffering.  Thence  it  emerges,  not  embit- 
tered, but  seeking  for  the  expression  of  the  love-force  higher  chan- 
nels. The  true  source  of  strength  has  been  sensed  by  those  who 


31nequaliti?   in  SDiborce  83 

remain  steadfast,  who  rise  above  disappointment,  and  who  con- 
tinue firm  in  faith  and  of  good  courage.  Prescient  with  the  wis- 
dom that  no  vicarious  experience  can  confer,  they  refuse  to  chain 
themselves  to  the  past,  and  the  future  heaven  stands  revealed. 
"  When  half-gods  go  the  gods  arrive." 

It  is  the  perception  of  that  which  lies  deeper  than  all  personal 
ties  which  urges  representatives  of  diverse  schools  to  unite  in 
opposing  the  arbitrary  attempts,  whether  of  minorities  or  majori- 
ties, to  regulate  other  lives  in  accordance  with  approved  models. 
If  men  and  women  find  their  highest  in  lifelong  unions,  the  open 
door  will  not  entice  them.  Neither  will  unity  be  secured  by 
turning  the  key.  The  eternal  verities  cannot  be  violated,  but 
reality  may  be  mocked  by  the  preservation  of  a  hollow  sem- 
blance. Equality  seems  the  hardest  lesson  to  be  learned  ;  we 
trifle  with  it  continually  and  accept  unworthy  substitutes. 


A«J  item  of  British  news,  which  I  find  reported  at  length  in 
the  London  Daily  Chronicle,  October  28  and  30  [1895], 
furnishes  significant  comment  on  Grant  Allen's  recent  contribu- 
tion to  the  marriage  question.  The  facts  are  briefly  as  follows  : 
Edith  Lanchester,  of  Battersea,  England,  twenty-four  years  of 
age,  an  active  socialist  and  a  candidate  for  West  Lambeth  at  the 
School  Board  election  last  year,  after  matriculating  at  London 
University,  elected  to  live  her  own  life  and  become  self-support- 
ing. At  first  she  earned  her  livelihood  as  a  school-teacher,  but 
her  views  on  social  questions  being  too  advanced  for  the  Maria 
Grey  Training-School,  where  she  was  for  some  time  engaged, 
she  subsequently  acquired  a  knowledge  of  shorthand  and  type- 
writing and  obtained  office  work.  Whilst  so  occupied  she  took 
up  her  residence  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray,  prominent  members 
of  the  Social  Democratic  Federation,  and  the  latter  a  Guardian 
of  the  Poor  for  the  Wadsworth  and  Clapham  Union.  She  was 
generally  understood  for  some  three  or  four  years  past  to  have 
been  affianced  to  James  Sullivan,  "  a  young  artisan  of  good  char- 
acter and  much  intelligence,  who  was  also  an  earnest  worker  in 
the  socialist  ranks,  and  generally  liked."  Since  the  publication  of 
"  The  Woman  Who  Did,"  however,  Edith  Lanchester, "  against 
whose  high  character  and  purity  of  motive  not  one  word  can  be 
said,"  resolved  not  to  conform  to  marriage  laws  which  she  re- 
garded as  dishonoring  to  women.  This  view  being  shared  by  James 
Sullivan,  and  both  having  the  courage  of  their  convictions,  they 
prepared  a  comfortable  home  with  the  intention  of  living  together 


Carriage  £>afeguar&$  85 

without  marriage  ceremony,  civil  or  religious.  But  Miss  Lanches- 
ter's  father,  a  fellow  of  the  Royal  Institute  of  British  Architects, 
in  "  good  position,"  and  other  relatives,  determined  upon  prac- 
tical opposing  action.  Her  father,  three  brothers,  and  a  doctor 
accordingly  proceeded  to  her  residence  and,  during  Mrs.  Gray's 
temporary  absence  from  thq  room,  forcibly  conveyed  her  to  a 
brougham,  which  was  in  waiting,  and  drove  away.  In  her  violent 
struggles  she  broke  one  of  the  windows  of  the  carriage,  but  the 
men  —  one  of  whom  was  of  herculean  proportions  —  prevented 
further  resistance  by  tying  her  hands  and  threatening  to  tie  her 
legs  if  she  were  not  quiet.  She  was  thus  conveyed  to  a  private 
asylum  on  the  doctor's  certification  that  he  had  discovered  signs 
of  mental  aberration.  Thanks  to  aid  that  might  not  have  been 
so  readily  forthcoming  in  the  case  of  any  one  less  prominently 
associated  with  social  work,  and  to  the  publicity  given  to  the 
whole  proceedings  through  the  press,  she  was  released  a  few  days 
later.  The  Lunacy  Commissioners  were  moved  to  act,  and  their 
inquiry  satisfied  them  that  there  was  no  just  reason  for  her  deten- 
tion. 

According  to  the  reports,  there  appears  not  to  have  been  the 
slightest  warrant  for  the  doctor's  certification,  beyond  the  fact  of 
Edith  Lanchester's  heterodox  views.  John  Burns  was  among 
those  instrumental  in  securing  her  release,  while  numerous  peo- 
ple, including  the  Marquis  of  Queensberry,  wrote  to  John  Sulli- 
van, offering  help.  A  revolt  which  elicits  the  sympathies  of  birds 
of  such  diverse  feather  will  hardly  be  quelled  by  straight-jacket 
or  prison-gyve. 

Whatever  marriage  forms  may  in  future  be  deemed  most 
favorable  to  individual  development,  and  thence  promoting  the 


86  l£t)itman'$  2fl&eal  Democracy 

best  interests  of  society,  it  is  obvious  that  any  woman  who  has 
outgrown  the  conventional  ideals  may  well  hesitate  to  place 
herself  under  the  jurisdiction  of  existing  marriage  laws.  It  is  fu- 
tile and  inhuman  to  put  such  a  heavy  price  on  freedom  as  to  de- 
ter all  but  the  most  heroic  souls  from  the  quest.  It  requires  but 
little  imagination  .to  realize  the  bitterness  which  such  indignities 
as  the  above  forcible  incarceration  must  have  entailed  on  a  finely 
wrought  nature,  true  to  conviction  beyond  the  mere  lip-loyalty 
of  less  sensitive  types.  The  world  continually  puts  a  premium  on 
insincerity.  An  institution  needing  to  be  sustained  by  such  an 
iniquitous  expedient  as  the  abduction  cited  would  appear  to  have 
little  inherent  vitality. 

This  is  but  one  among  many  instances  in  which  the  worship 
of  the  symbol  has  degenerated  into  a  mere  superstition,  blinding 
its  adherents  to  the  reality  symbolized.  And  here  the  reality, 
which  law  and  public  opinion  have  attempted  to  stereotype,  is 
too  valuable  to  be  sacrificed  on  the  altar  of  custom  ;  it  is  nothing 
less  than  a  union  based  on  such  free  and  spontaneous  love  as 
compulsion  renders  impossible. 

"Ne  may  love  be  compelled  by  maistery; 
For  soon  as  maistery  comes,  sweet  love  anon 
Taketh  his  nimble  wings  and  soon  away  is  gone." 

Since,  then,  the  self-appointed  custodians  of  morality  are  de- 
termined to  preserve  the  artificial  bond,  without  modification,  at 
whatever  cost,  there  seems  no  alternative  for  freedom-lovers  but 
to  unite  in  a  crusade  against  the  enforced  irrevocable  contract, 
for  the  protection  of  truer  marriage  relations  —  not,  indeed,  as 
Grant  Allen  and  others  insist,  because  women's  "social  and 


&>afrguarDs  87 


moral  salvation  "  lies  in  maternity,  or  that  voluntary  celibacy  is 
to  be  regarded  as  a  misfortune,  but  in  order  that  men  and  women 
alike  may  be  untrammeled  in  their  choice  of  such  life  conditions 
as  they  deem  best  calculated  to  promote  their  all-round  develop- 
ment. In  this  way  only  will  the  cast-iron  codes  —  more  rigid, 
perhaps,  in  sex  matters  than  any  other  —  give  place  to  a  saner, 
more  democratic  attitude,  encouraging  freer  relationships  based 
on  sympathy,  enduring  affection,  and  "  sweet,  eternal,  perfect  " 
comradeship.  The  scaffolding  required  to  rear  the  structure  above 
the  mere  physical  groundwork,  when  the  higher  planes  are 
reached,  will  have  served  its  purpose  and  may  be  removed  with- 
out disaster.  The  distinction  between  essentials  and  non-essen- 
tials cannot  be  too  much  emphasized. 

Whether  the  effort  to  live  one's  ideals,  even  in  the  face  of  so- 
cial ostracism,  should  be  termed  self-sacrifice  or  self-realization 
depends,  of  course,  on  one's  philosophy.  Herminia  Barton's 
11  martyrdom  "  was  attributable  perhaps  fully  as  much  to  the 
"  blank  pessimism  "  which  Grant  Allen  declares  to  be  "  the  one 
creed  possible  for  all  save  fools  "  as  to  the  anachronistic  laws 
against  which  she  so  devotedly  precipitated  herself  for  a  season. 
With  a  deeper  faith,  her  daughter's  reversion  and  failure  to  fulfil 
her  expectations,  far  from  being  overwhelming,  would  have  been 
simply  a  spur  to  continue  the  relentless  struggle  for  principle, 
without  the  distraction  of  personal  ties. 

The  story  of  Herminia  Barton  has  already  been  sufficiently 
discussed,  but  it  may  be  noted  in  passing  that  the  author  has 
somewhat  confused  the  main  issues  by  questionable  generaliza- 
tions, occasional  exaggerations  of  statement,  and  a  tendency  to 
push  his  points  beyond  their  logical  conclusions.  His  heroine's 


88  ^^ttman'0  Kl&ral  SDemocracj? 

admittedly  exclusive  attention,  from  her  youth  up,  to  one  set  of 
problems  was  prejudicial  to  the  complete  self-emancipation  which 
her  experiment  demanded.  Almost  every  page  bristles  with  con- 
trovertible  points,  whether  examined  by  conventional  or  radical 
tests.  The  timely  incarnation,  therefore,  of  Herminia  Barton's 
rare  courage  and  scorn  of  compromise,  and  the  persecuting  spirit 
which  it  aroused,  cannot  fail  to  be  profoundly  suggestive  to 
minds  alert  for  the  momentous  social  revolution  that  is  even 
now  in  process. 


/ 


000  672  778    8 


